Aconitum
by Mistake Experience
Summary: AU. Up until now, Aster Isley was used to have wannabes thugs after her. Usually though, it was because her mother was The Poison Ivy, not because she had (not)killed a Dark Lord ten years ago. Some people can really hold a grudge, but if there is one thing the aspiring villainess can do, it's ruining a perfect plan. Fem!Harry; Harley Quinn/Poison Ivy.
1. Queen of all Poisons

**AN: I own neither Batman nor Harry Potter. I'm just a poor dandelion writing a fanfiction.**

 **Aconitum**

 _Queen of all Poisons_

Jeremy Hutson heaved a sigh and tiredly glanced around the nearly empty dingy bar. As the night came to an end, only the desperate souls still occupied their seats, staring into their drinks as though the toxic liquid contained the answer to all their problems. Needless to say, it didn't, and the scene was becoming depressingly familiar to the young man.

He half-heartedly glanced at the clock, and cringed. 3:47. When the wannabe writer agreed to play bartender in such a decrepit establishment, he knew it wouldn't be all rainbows and sunshine, but he thought that the customers would spend the night pouring their hearts out to him, revealing tragic fates and stories of betrayed love, encouraged by his wise advices. Instead of those passionate tales, he only got drunken mumbles filled with sobs about lost jobs and hated lives. It was disappointing, and Jeremy thought about quitting more and more as the nights passed, all annoyingly similar.

But tonight was different, he reminded himself, staring at the only unfamiliar customer of the night. The writer in Jeremy couldn't help but admire his looks, the kind that books took pages to tell, and made more than one fall on their knees.

The stranger couldn't be more than two or three years younger than the bartender, but the frown currently creasing his forehead made him look older than his mid-twenties. Perhaps sensing the weight of his gaze, striking hazel eyes looked up and revealed a tired and weary soul hidden in their depths. It didn't make much sense though. Judging by the quality of his clothes and glasses, the handsome man had everything to lead a happy and successful life, so what was he doing alone in such a place, breathing the same air as those drunkards? The living-mystery lifted his glass, silently asking for a refill, and Jeremy hesitated.

If he complied, it would the fourth glass of Scotch in less than two hours. However, a part of him couldn't help but hope that this glass would be the one allowing him to hear all those secrets. The too curious bartender was about to pour the liquor when the bell above the door chimed softly.

It was as though a spell had been at the same time broken and recast. A new kind of silence appeared, the apathy vanishing, replaced by awe and lust. This reaction was easily understandable though.

This type of beauty was one that men, especially those who hang out in this pathetic bar, could only hope to witness once in their lives. Even under the unflattering artificial lightening, she looked like an angel, appearing before their rotten eyes to purify their damned souls. Her crimson hair danced like fire with her every move and created an alluring contrast with her alabaster skin, almost green under those lights, which paled in comparison to her eyes, the same colour as unpolished malachite. Her unusual colouring only made her more intriguing to the assembly, their heavy gazes not bothering the exotic goddess who calmly made her way to the nervous bartender.

Her luscious lips stretched into an amused smirk and the boy gulped loudly.

"A Cosmopolitan. Now."

Jeremy could only stare at her dumbly, unable to even think about wiping the drool off his chin. It was as though his heart beat on the rhythm of her words, and the mere seconds following her order were spent in agony, the lack of oxygen making it near impossible to breath.

"Can you even do that one simple task?"

Though she was still smiling, there was no mistaking the annoyance in her voice.

Straightening, he nodded rapidly and turned around to make the cocktail, hands shaking and sweating. After a minute of preparation, he finally placed the drink in front of the gorgeous customer, waiting eagerly for her approval. He watched intently as she took a first sip, anxiously biting his lips when she sighed gently.

"Well, I guess that it will have to do…"

The effect of her voice had multiple effects on him. The fact that the beverage wasn't as much as a success as he first thought was crushing, the liquid honey that was her voice both chastening and soothing; and hearing it as a disappointed murmur made him want to change it into a scream of pleasure, his name on her lips, head thrown back and exposing her delicate neck.

The sound of another voice, much less pleasant than his goddess', snapped him out of his thoughts, and he turned toward the intruder, face still flushed from his previous thoughts.

"Lily-Flower?"

The dangerous beauty slowly shifted in her seat until her eyes met the hopeful ones of the sad enigma.

"My name is Poison Ivy, and you would do well to remember it."

The hope was slowly replaced by confusion, and in his drunken stupor, the man looked like a petulant child.

"But you look just like her! The same pretty hair! So pretty…"

Reaching to pat the fiery locks, his hand was slapped aside by the peeved woman.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?"

Ignoring her indignant question, he turned back to his drink and his eyes gained a haunted look.

"Did you hear about the Prewett brothers? Do you know what they did to them? Can you believe that they're gone now? Just like that. It could have been us, and if this continues, it will be us, Lily." Hands and glass shaking, he finished in a whisper. "I don't want to die."

An uncomfortable silence enveloped the trio, before the only female repeated herself, still annoyed:

"I told you, my name is Poison Ivy, not Lily."

Suddenly gripping her shoulders, he begged frantically:

"Promise me, though! Promise me that you won't die! That you'll survive this war and live a happy life, even if it's with this bastard Snivellus!"

Her eyebrows further furrowed, and confused, she asked:

"A war? What are you talking about?"

"Don't worry about anything he says" interrupted the eager barman, "he just had one too many drinks. He isn't worth your time, milady."

Barely sparing him a glance, she asked her question again, angrier than before. Her feelings didn't softened when, instead of answering her as he should, he ignored her yet again, moodily muttering about this 'Snivellus'.

Leaning forward and fixing him intensely, she repeated herself a third time and it was as though the grumbling man had been sucker punched. Frowning, he shook his head and slowly turned toward her, looking alert for the first time since the beginning of the night. It would have been far more impressive if his sharpened eyes hadn't looked so glazed and conflicted.

"Not here." His voice sounded confused, as if he was reading from a script that didn't make any sense to him. "I have a room in the street. Let's go there."

With a satisfied smirk, she nodded and rose gracefully, following him out of the seedy bar.

Too focused on the hypnotising sway of her generous hips, it wasn't until the jingle snapped him out of his trance that he noticed an important detail for his now seriously compromised carrier. With a long, tortured moan, he whined to the dazed and uncaring customers.

"My boss won't care how beautiful they were! They still had to pay!"

XXXXXXXXXX

Except for his occasional stumbles, James and his companion arrived quickly to their destination, a modest nondescript hotel, the kind that didn't ask questions.

He hesitated on his every move, not understanding why exactly he was making them. Why was he opening the door? Why was he letting her in? The heavy scent clouding his thoughts wasn't really helping either. The fragrance in itself was quite unusual, a mix of moss, cinnamon, honeysuckle and sandalwood. He felt the strongest urge to try and catch a better sniff of it by leaning his nose near her tempting neck, but he resisted with all his strength and was again confused as to why exactly he was experiencing those strange impulses.

Of course, he had always wanted to get closer to Lily, both romantically and physically, but never with this kind of need; like a plant seeking water and sun.

Though his vision was still blurry, he knew it was her. He would recognize this shade of red anywhere: darker than the Weasley's, closer to fresh blood, and yet so alive it looked like a will-o'-the-wisp. And those eyes! He couldn't remember how many times he had lost himself into those bright emerald orbs.

No one else could possibly possess such a colouring. This woman standing right in front of him, so tempting, just had to be Lily. Even if her lips were fuller. And her eyes seemed sharper. And she kept denying her name was Lily…

Still staring into her almond-shaped eyes, he almost didn't hear her next words.

"Now tell me more about this war of yours."

"Don't be silly Lily, you already know all about it."

"Again, that's not my name. But please, do enlighten me."

Her tone seemed to become more forceful, and he felt the same compulsion, the same need to answer her, no matter how illogical her question. And so, still confused he recounted to her the war for freedom and tolerance they were fighting against the tyrannical Voldemort. With each passing words, she seemed to get angrier and her voice came out as a snarl.

"Is this some kind of joke?! Who do you think you are, wasting my time like that?!"

"What? No, of course not! Why would I joke about something like that? You know I'm telling the truth!"

"As if something like magic could actually exists. There is only science in this world!"

"Then what is this!?"

With a flick of his wand and a quick incantation, the bed was on fire. Another flick and it was extinguished without leaving a trace.

Mouth ever so slightly open, eyes wide, she was unable to speak for a few seconds before curiosity took over.

"What was that? How did you do that? Tell me!"

She stared at him intensely enough for him to be slightly uncomfortable.

"I already told you it was magic." With a disappointed sigh, he added, "You're really not Lily, are you?"

The unimpressed raised eyebrow gave even more bite to her mocking retort.

"As I have already said many times now, my name is Poison Ivy."

The expectant way she enounced her name made it clear that he was supposed to know what it represented, but all he could say was:

"Well that's… ominous. And slightly ridiculous too."

Obviously, it was not the right thing to say.

"Coming from a man fighting, and losing against someone named Voldemort…"

"That man is incredibly ruthless and dangerous! He could kill you in a blink of an eye."

"Ha! As if a simple man could stand a chance against _the_ Poison Ivy! I have the support of Gaia herself."

Ignoring the incredibly arrogant claim, he stared urgently in her eyes, trying to impress on her the danger that was Voldemort.

"He has incredible, dark powers, and he wouldn't hesitate one second before killing you!"

"He would already be dead."

"Why do I have the feeling that no matter what I tell you, you won't take it seriously?"

This time, she was the one not answering his question, looking childishly proud of herself for it.

With a sigh and a muttered "your loss", he sat tiredly on the bed. A minute of silence passed before he looked up only to see her standing there, staring at him with an intensely curious expression.

"What?"

Cocking her head to the side, she slowly asked:

"This magic of yours… Were you born with it?"

"Yes? Nobody really knows where it comes from; just that it's been here for a long, long time."

"So, it's a natural energy? Humanity had no hand in its creation, correct?

"Right, humans can only wield it. Completely controlling it is impossible. Why?"

"I wonder if…"

Before he could ask her to elaborate, she was upon him, straddling him, kissing him fiercely and letting him no way to refuse her. He could only taste mint, honey and the bitter aftertaste of her Cosmopolitan, yet it was enough for him to feel more intoxicated and feverish with this kiss than with his five glasses of Scotch.

After a short and half-hearted struggle, he surrendered, overwhelmed by her presence, falling back on the used mattress under him, her body moulding to his in all the right places.

His last coherent thought was to the only woman he truly loved.

' _At least, this one really does look like you.'_


	2. Middlemist Red

**AN: I own neither Batman nor Harry Potter. I'm just a lonely blade of grass.**

 **Aconitum**

 _Middlemist Red_

With a tired sigh, Poison Ivy carefully held up the flower she had studied for four months straight. Just like every time before, she couldn't help but be fascinated by this beautiful specimen.

The Middlemist Red was, after all, the rarest flower in the world, and staring intensely at her deep pink color, Ivy felt a crushing sense of regret. Even with her superior skills, she wasn't able to recreate her and for that, the infamous botanist's heart wept.

Holding her up, she admired the contrast between the bright pink petals and the dark, ominous background. She didn't know which she hated more; Gotham during daytime, when all you could see were the different shades of grey composing the city, or during nighttime, when her imagination reigned free and let her think about the disgusting humans lurking in the shadows.

Observing the way the petals seemed to pale under the artificial light, she wondered yet again if she had made the right choice by returning with her precious friend.

"Such a horrid place, don't you think, my dear?"

Like always, she could feel the flower's agreement through their special bond.

This feeling of kinship with one of her own was not unusual, but rarely was it this strong. Was it because they were so similar, both of them so special, yet still stuck in this wretched place? Although, just as she had expected, London was no better than this hellhole: the air was just as heavy and foul, and the humans were the same disgusting, useless creatures they always had been and would be, no matter the country. The only thing remotely positive about this place was the lack of giant bat, whose sole existence apparently consisted of ruining her plans.

Thinking about the vile vigilante, her hand clenched around her fragile charge and she took a deep breath, trying unsuccessfully to relax.

How could that man, and of course, it had to be a man, do nothing while those monsters murdered Mother Nature, day after day?

Before her indignation could take control of her fiery temper, a familiar ache since her trip to England a month ago bloomed in her stomach. Gasping, she hurriedly put the plant back on the desk and sat down, clutching at her abdomen, waiting anxiously for the pain to fade away. Breathing heavily, she tiredly rubbed her face.

With a weary sigh, she got up on wobbly legs, slowly making her way toward her bedroom. Carefully lying down on her unmade bed, she blindly reached for the catheter on her nightstand, wincing while inserting the needle in her vein, standing clearly on her oh-so pale skin. Soon, she could feel the effect of the IV on her, filled with one of her own creation. Already, the pain lessened thanks to the extract of poppy seeds and she was once again left to wonder what on earth was happening to her. Was the pollution too much for her mutated organism at last? Or was she finally leaving her humanity behind to fully embrace her true nature?

With that last wistful wish and a soft smile, she peacefully fell asleep.

XX

Sometimes, he had to admit it was difficult to know who he really was. Was he Bruce Wayne, philanthropist playboy? Or was he Batman, protector of Gotham? Often, he felt like neither.

Right now though, he wore the billionaire's mask, lucky enough to have at his arm the new It-girl in the fashion world, and he certainly didn't have the time to ponder on his twisted identity. A quick smile and thank you to the new donator seemed to fool him, and Bruce let out a relieved sigh. It would not do for the light-hearted heir to be anything else than radiant.

The sudden crash echoing through the luxuriant boat, however, was the perfect excuse to drop the mask, even if it was to replace it with a terrified one. After all, it would be the only one acceptable considering the giant sea-snake's apparition. A closer look revealed it to be made of algae, which could only mean one thing.

"Hello there, Brucie."

Turning around, the sight of the infamous redhead proved his deduction had been the right one.

"Poison Ivy…"

The name came out in a growl and only made the villainess' smirk grow.

"Missed me, love?"

The question was left unanswered as the superhero rushed at her, fist raised and a wordless scream on his lips.

Slowly shaking her head, she waved her left hand carelessly, watching in utter boredom as the foolish man was sent overboard by her lovely creation.

"Will they ever learn?" she wondered out loud, making her way toward the charity fund unhurriedly.

She'd only had the time to put a few fistful of money in her large burlap sack before she was violently thrown back by a heavy hand, slumping against the iron boat rails. The sensation was so familiar now that she didn't even need to look to know who was responsible for this affront.

"This money belongs to charity."

The gravelly voice seemed to echo around the boat, immediately setting off the various sighs of relief and exclamations of 'Batman!'.

"I know. The Poison Ivy foundation is truly thankful, by the way."

This did not amuse the caped crusader who only crouched before the infamous criminal to restrain her, which was the exact thing she was waiting for.

With a wicked smile, the supervillain crashed their lips together before being roughly pushed away. But it was already too late and the hero stumbled, cursing his foolishness. It was only years of intense training, both physical and psychological, which allowed him to think through the haze that was slowly filling his mind caused by her famous toxic kiss.

Falling back toward her, he took advantage of her surprise, shoving her against the pole behind, hard enough to knock her out, before pressing their lips together once more for only a second to enjoy the curing effects of the second kiss.

Knowing that he only had a few precious second before grateful people started to approach him, he quickly jumped back into the freezing sea, taking off his uniform and putting back his tuxedo as fast as he could, right on time to be 'rescued' and returned at his lady's side.

"That was really brave of you, you know, but I think you should let Batman handle those things."

With a truly amused smile, the playboy ran his hand through his wet hair.

"Sorry, I guess I just can't help it…"

XXX

"Thanks again, Batman. We really owe you one."

Waving away commissioner Gordon's gratitude, he quietly watched as Poison Ivy was dragged away, firmly restrained by her personal straitjacket and two female members of Arkham Asylum.

"Be careful though, I have a bad feeling about this one. She didn't even put up a fight, she might be planning something."

With a sigh, the tired man gave a small nod, having noticed the lack of struggle as well.

"I'll tell them to do their best, but you know how it is: you get one back here, two escape. It's always been like this, and it probably always will. Nothing can keep these crazies away from our good old city."

The vigilante could only frown at that. The truth in this statement haunted him every single day ever since he first put on this cape and decided to make of Gotham a better and safer place. Once again, he let his eyes focus on the barely responding redhead. Usually, she would have already insulted half of the people involved in her presence in this blasted place, yet she hadn't said a word since their confrontation. In fact, she looked quite pale and tired, nothing like her usual vibrant and proud self.

"Still, be careful."

And with those last words, the superhero left the scene.

XXX

Lying on her cot, knees to her chest and arms wrapped around her stomach, Ivy could hardly breathe through the excruciating pain which had steadily grown in the last six months. Her stay at the Asylum never were pleasant, what with the lack of sunlight and the presence of those insufferable idiots, but this feeling of having your insides being twisted, pulled and squeezed by an invisible hand at the same time was highly unusual and worrying to say the least. Gasping, she weakly called for the guard passing by, earning a suspicious look for her efforts, but after a few moments of quiet observation, he cautiously made his way to her side.

"Is there any problem, inmate?"

She let her poisonous glare talk for itself, too tired to snarl and rant about men's stupidity.

Seeing her obviously not fake pain but unwilling to take any risk, the young employee carefully took out the keys of her cell.

"I'm going to open this door, and I want you to stay put, okay? Do not move or speak, understood?"

Clenching her teeth she gave a slow, short nod. It seemed as though an eternity had passed before she felt herself being straightened up by the slow boy.

"Do you think you can stand up without falling?"

Not knowing whether or not the order still stood and unwilling to take the risk, she lightly shook her head no.

Sighing nervously, he gently helped her up, only to almost drop her a second later.

"What- What the hell is that?!"

Annoyed by the brusque movement, she looked down, only to see small pool of water at her feet. Now that she thought about it, she could feel something trickling down her legs.

"You're- You're not…"

Furious and worried about this new predicament, she all but forgot his previous order, glaring at him through her sweat soaked bangs.

"I am most certainly not!"

The guard's dread only grew with her growled answer, and he unhelpfully started fidgeting.

"I'm not paid for this, you know!"

With a small wordless scream, she turned his face toward her and looked deep in his brown eyes.

"Take me to the infirmary. Now!"

In a daze, he stupidly nodded and slowly walked through the doors, not reacting to the jeers of the others lunatics.

In a few long minutes, they stood before the stern and suspicious figure of the head nurse.

"What are you doing here? What's happening? What did you do to-?"

"Shut up and heal me, or you won't leave this room alive!" she snapped, out of breath and hating herself for showing so much weakness in front of the enemies.

Narrowing her dark eyes, the no-nonsense woman observed her hunched shoulders and labored breathing.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know, you fool! Why do you think I'm he-"

The sudden pain was so intolerable that it left her breathless for a few seconds and almost brought her to her knees. Professional concern for her unusual patient taking over momentarily, the nurse quickly lead her to the more comfortable coat and laid her down.

"Is it your stomach?"

Only receiving a short nod, she put her hands on the redhead's abdomen and was shocked speechless by what she felt.

Seeing the astonished look on the nurse's face, the growing sense of dread twisted her insides even further.

"What!? What is it?!"

Taking another deep breath, the nurse turned toward the confused and standing guard.

"Call Sharp, we have a 372 in the infirmary."

Paling, the young man gave hasty nod and ran to the desk phone.

"Tell me! What's going on?!"

Looking up into her patient's panicked eyes, she spoke slowly, trying not to upset the infamous killer even further.

"Miss Isley… Were you aware you're pregnant?"

"Are you kidding me?! That's impossible, I'm sterile!"

Snatching her patient's hand, she put it against the painful area, watching as shock replaced incredulity as _something_ distinctly moved at the shaking touch.

"I'm not kidding, and you're in labor. I suggest we stop talking and start acting."

XXXXX

A few hours later, a small bundle in her arms and more tired than ever, Pamela wondered how such a tiny little thing could cause so much pain and awe.

And yet, no matter how exhausted she was, she couldn't take her eyes off little flower's face, because if she did, she was sure she would realize it was all a just a beautiful dream. She had realized early on her rebirth that her cycle had been forever broken and so, that she could never share her future perfect world with someone who would understand how wonderful it truly was. Still, she had not let that crushing realization stop her. If anything, she had worked even harder, all for the sake of the little ones who did not understand how monstrous their parents were and who didn't know any better.

But looking at her, her oh-so fragile daughter, she was reminded of her original reasons; this need protect her own, to cherish them as much as her heart could… It was both thrilling and humbling, and she could not, would not fail them.

Already, she could feel the strong, ever-growing bond between the two of them, more powerful than any other before. They would be inseparable, of that she was certain; she wouldn't allow anything else. For Gaia's sake, even her birthday was linked to their cause! Born on a June 5th, the World Environment day…

With that realization came the certainty that one day; she would leave in this perfect world with her, her dear little girl.

"What's her name?"

Not answering the neglected nurse immediately, she thought about the question. One day, when she had still been a shy and easily overlooked girl, she had stopped disgusting little boys from ruining her mother's favorite flowerbed, pushing them out of the garden, and standing up for the first time in her young life to defend innocent victims against selfish bullies. This incident had been the main reason why she later decided to become a botanist, and years later, she still remembered the memory fondly.

"Aster. My baby girl is an Aster."


	3. Kadupul

**AN: I own neither Batman nor Harry Potter. I'm just a trampled Daisy.**

 **Aconitum**

 _Kadupul_

Pamela had always loved the color green. Her childhood bedroom walls had been green, her first friend had been green and most important of all, it was her kin's emblematic color.

And yet, all those lovely shades seemed to pale next to her beautiful, perfect baby girl's emerald eyes. Those orbs drew her in, demanded all her attention, all her love, and the enamored mother was more than ready to give all of it to her. Holding her seemed to erase the exhaustion of the past few months, and she felt more energized than she had in years. The rush of vitality was similar to the one she had received along with her powers on that fateful night, and Ivy knew it wasn't a coincidence.

This moment would have been perfect if not for the slow, torturous ticking of the clock, a nerve racking reminder of the worrying conversation she had overheard just a few minutes ago.

* * *

" _When will she be able to reintegrate her cell?"_

 _Ivy easily recognized the oh so annoying voice of Quincy Sharp, Warden of the pathetic establishment that was Arkham Asylum._

" _She just gave birth five hours ago. She needs rest, and so does her baby. It might take some time. The girl is almost two months early. She wasn't supposed to be here before August."_

 _After a few seconds, her hazy mind remembered the nurse's voice and she felt a rare, and thus treasurable, stab of regret for shouting at her earlier. That woman was probably the first competent employee she had ever encountered in this prison, and she had frequented it for the last three years. The reminder of her precious' health stole her attention back and her arms immediately tightened around her daughter._

" _In case you hadn't noticed, those dangerous criminals' health is not exactly our main priority. The weaker they are, the better it is."_

" _Well then, think about the girl. She ain't about to kill us all."_

 _The tired mother smiled down at her still sleeping mother. 'No, not yet. But soon, my dear, soon."_

" _We have to stay careful, you never know with that woman."_

" _Right, beware of the toothless babe, she'll smile you to death."_

" _Laugh all you want, Miss Thompson, but I want Miss Ivy in her cell by the end of the day, understood? She is tired, as defenseless as she will ever be, and it would be beyond foolish to let this kind of opportunity go by."_

 _Ivy furiously narrowed her eyes. She was_ _ **never**_ _defenseless, and for this little man to ever assume otherwise..._

" _What about the little one? She needs her mother."_

 _Sharp let out a short laugh, and Ivy barely held back a growl at the shrill sound._

" _Are you seriously considering leaving the two together? That woman might be a criminal, a terrorist and a murderer, but she is most certainly not a mother. Trust me, the girl will be better off without her. The orphanage will be more than happy to welcome her. Hopefully her mother's absence will prevent her from being yet another nuisance."_

 _Time seemed to slow down and the red haired beauty couldn't find the strength to breathe anymore. What on earth did those monsters wanted to do with her baby?!_

" _Now get back to work and follow the orders, or you will have to find another job, got it?"_

 _As Ivy slowly tried to get her breathing back under control, she barely heard the nurse's faint answer._

" _Yes, sir."_

* * *

Just the reminder of that dreaded conversation was enough to set off her fiery temper. How dared they? How dared they try and take away her precious bud?! She was hers, and no one would ever place their tainted hands on her little one; and those foolish enough to try would be annihilated, she would make sure of it.

Preoccupied by her dark thoughts, she clutched her small bundle to her chest a little too tight. The small sound Aster made was enough to snap her out of it and she immediately returned her full attention to her, still keeping her close, but in a more tender hold. The sensation of this small, warm and fragile body pressed against her was rapidly becoming addicting and she became sure of one thing: nothing and no one would ever separate them.

* * *

With heavy steps, Angela Thompson approached the sleeping mother and daughter and let out another sigh. This was not what she had signed up for. When she had decided to ignore boring job offers of healers back home she had thought that she would be able to help muggles with her knowledge, but she had underestimated the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. She wanted to make a difference, she truly did, but she was not gifted enough back home to actually do something, and here, she was basically powerless. However, she knew this world better, having been raised in it. She had thought that she understood its logic, but as she remembered her year as a nurse in this madhouse, she came to the conclusion, that she probably should have accepted one of those boring offers. When she had agreed to work at Arkham Asylum, she knew that it wouldn't be pretty, that she would see dark things, dark people, and most of all, that the criminals would not get better. After all, anybody entering here would leave some of their sanity behind, herself included, so for those maniacs, declared insane a long time ago, getting better would take more than a miracle. She knew that and yet, there were times like those where she found herself doubting. Were they really the terrible monsters the newspapers claimed them to be? If she hadn't known that the red haired was an infamous bioterrorist, she would have believed her to be just another tired and enamored mother, peacefully resting with her adorable baby.

Slowly reaching for the sleeping newborn, her hands brushing against the unconscious criminal's arm, she could only whisper a token apology.

"I'm sorry, I really am."

As the words left her mouth, chilling malachite eyes snapped open and a furious hiss stopped Angela dead in her tracks.

"Don't. You. Dare."

Wide eyed, the terrified nurse could only lose herself in those fascinating orbs, too afraid to move away, and only managed a few stutters.

"I-… I wasn't- "

"You weren't what? Trying to take her away from me? Don't lie, I heard you talking with that vile man. I won't let you! We'll stay together, and no one will ever be able to keep us away from each other! Try, and you'll die before you even have time to beg me to spare you!"

"You're handcuffed to the bed and you don't have any access to your powers."

Angela inhaled sharply upon realizing what she had just said. Had she just talked back to an infamous terrorist?!

Judging from the unholy intensity the glare had just reached, yes, she had.

"If you really think that those will be enough to stop me, then truly, you are even more stupid than I first thought. Now, be a dear, and let me go."

Suddenly exhausted, the nurse let out a long sigh.

"Look, I'm really sorry, but I'm not gonna do that. I just can't. And honestly? I'm not sure I even want to. You're a criminal. What kind of life could you possibly offer her? You're not alone now, you know? You have to think about her for one second."

"Let. Me. Go."

"No."

"Let. Me. GO!"

The two women stared at each other in silence for a few moments, neither of them willing to look away.

"If I let you out, would you give up your whole bioterrorist act for her?"

"No."

"Well then-"

"I'll never stop my activities _for_ her. I won't give up on my dream _for_ her. I'll create this perfect world _for_ her or I'll die trying and take everyone with me to see how the afterlife looks like, so LET. ME. OUT!"

"How the hell could I help you after what you just told me?! If I let you out, you'll just resume your activities and be a threat to Gotham! Why should I help you?"

"Because one day, be it in a week or in a month, I will be out of here anyway, and when I am, I will find you, and I will kill you."

The threat was uttered in such a calm voice that Angela was struck speechless for a few seconds, jaw hanging open and eyes narrowed.

"Seriously? That's how you want to convince me? You're just proving my point!"

"Yes. But is it working?"

"No! God, no!"

"Huh. It usually does… Would it help if I said please?"

"Is this really happening? Or are you somehow drugging me? Is this all part of your plans?"

"… Which answer will get me out of here?"

"Oh for god's sake!"

Hand raking through her hair, Angela stared at her unusual patient, really observing her, and was almost surprised by the results. She looked… tired, yes, but underneath that was worry and an unbreakable determination. This look was completely different from the one the dangerous red haired beauty was famous for, all cold indifference and superiority, and in that moment, Angela was sure of one thing: Poison Ivy would leave this place with her daughter, or the world as they knew it would end. Keeping her here was only differing the inevitable and make it ten times worse. All they could do now was to try and control the damages.

Angela let out another sigh, probably the hundredth today. She knew she shouldn't have gotten out of bed this morning.

"You're right."

Startled eyes of jade met hers, the exhaustion seeming to disappear for an instant and making way for surprise.

"Yes. What about?"

"You will be out of here, it's only a question of time. Soon, they'll declare you sane enough to walk freely around Gotham, and then you'll just return to causing mayhem, Batman will stop you-" At this, the criminal's eyes abruptly narrowed. "and put you back here until everything start over and over again. It's just a vicious circle, bound to repeat itself until one of you gives up, and we've already established that that won't happen any time soon."

"What are you trying to say?"

The badly concealed hope was almost too much to hear coming from such a woman, but Angela soldiered on and fished out a key out of her pocket, hand brushing against her old wand, and she contemplated the idea of ending everything, right here, right now, but a quick look at the sleeping girl put those thoughts to rest. The inmate's eyes intensely followed the small object, and for a second, the nurse was tempted to wave it around and see her patient's reaction.

"I'm trying to say that, if I hear about any kind of bioterrorist activities in the next three months? You won't be seeing your daughter for some time."

The walls were back up, and the only emotion to be found in those chilling orbs was a burning anger.

"If you think for one second that a miserable mortal-"

Angela held up the hand clutching the key and spoke over the hateful villainess.

"In case you forgot, you just gave birth to a baby. You both need each other and rest. Running around destroying public properties won't help either of you. It's either that, or you'll be sedated over and over again, and when you get out of here? Your daughter will be long gone, and don't think that they won't get her far away enough for you to never find her. Do we have a deal?"

The stubborn women stared intensely at each other for quite some time until they were interrupted by a small gurgle, and the two of them looked at the culprit. As Aster slowly blinked open sleepy eyes, her mother intently stared at her face, already knowing the answer.

"Alright. I will not fight back for three months." Ivy quickly clenched her jaw, and kept her gaze on her daughter. "Now get me out of here."

* * *

Getting out of Arkham Asylum was, unsurprisingly, very easy. A quick look at the guards' schedule revealed an obvious security failure, and the odd trio slowly made their way toward the entrance, carefully timing their walk to avoid any guard. A few corridors before liberty, a security agent walked a little too close to their position and they were forced to quickly backpedaled.

"This would be much easier if I was out of this ridiculous wheelchair!"

"No, this would be much easier if you could actually walk! Now, shush. They're dumb, not deaf."

It was precisely this moment that Aster chose to wake up and feel hungry.

The panicked look on Poison Ivy's face was so strange to witness that Angela took a few seconds to realize what was happening.

"She's hungry. You have to feed her."

The look didn't change and the nurse could feel the awkward moment coming.

"Hum, just-… Just bring her close to your chest, she'll do the rest."

Angela slightly turned away when the new mother tugged at her hospital gown. After a few seconds, she tuned back toward her patient, and the look of utter love on her face was at least comforting. She may be setting free a criminal, but she wasn't separating a mother and her daughter. When two minutes had passed, Angela coughed lightly in her fist, unwilling to break the tender moment.

"The next shift starts in a few minutes; we have to go now."

With a nod, the red haired adjusted her gown, and the dark skinned nurse started to push the wheelchair.

When they arrived in the hall, Angela had to pause for a second, barely believing what she was seeing. Despite knowing that the security system of this place was basically useless, the sight of the empty desk was almost too much. Was it a trap? Or did they seriously leave the entrance to the most dangerous asylum in the country unattended?

Neither possibilities were comforting to the incredulous young woman. The criminal, sensing her bewilderment, turned in her seat, a smirk spread across her face.

"Are you really surprised? How do you think people escape this place? Sharp is way too much of a penny-pincher to actually secure this place. Honestly, I'm surprised this place hasn't already been shut down."

"Yeah, but, still…"

"Let's go. We shouldn't take any risk, not this close to freedom."

Nodding, the nurse hurriedly crossed the hall, heart beating loudly in her chest and adrenaline pumping through her veins, almost running by the time they reached the double doors.

Stopping once they passed through the great gate, Angela leaned back, breathing heavily and shaky words leaving her trembling body.

"That… was-"

"A normal Wednesday for me."

Angela let out a laugh and inhaled slowly. The two of them stayed silent for a few seconds before the nurse straightened up.

"Well, I should probably go and start looking for a new job."

The escapee snorted and closed her eyes.

"Please, if they fired everyone who had let an inmate escape, voluntarily or not, this place would be empty. Don't worry, you'll probably get yelled at, but unfortunately for you, you'll still work in this hellhole."

Angela considered this quietly for a moment before humming slowly.

"You're probably right… So, what will you do now? You can't roll around Gotham like that, you'll get caught in no time."

While Poison Ivy looked at her, eyebrow raised high on her forehead, the grass stated to move, soon revealing a manhole. Angela stared for a second, before shaking her head.

"Okay, but how will you walk-"

As she talked a liana slowly crept out of the hole and almost tenderly wrapped itself around the mother and her sleeping babe. The picture was so bizarre that it left Angela speechless, before the nurse let out yet another sigh.

"Well, I guess this is a goodbye then. See you soon!"

Just as the villainess' head disappeared, her eyes fixed on the nurse's.

"Thank you. For everything."

Before her shocked accomplice could answer, Poison Ivy was gone.

* * *

 **AN: So... Hi!**

 **Again, i'm sorry for the late update, but you know what they say: "Better late than never"!**

 **Sorry, but I kept changing my mind with this chapter, and this is the last version.**

 **To answer a few questions: this is a yuri fanfic, not a harem one, however, this does not mean that Aster will stay with one person for ever. She will also have a half sibling (brother or sister, I'm still not sure). If you have any other question, feel free to ask, I'll answer as long as it doesn't spoil the story, obviously.**

 **I hope this chapter was good enough for you,**

 **Have a nice day/night!**


	4. Liqueur de Rose

**AN: I do not own Harry Potter nor Batman. I'm just a skinny Buttercup.**

 **Aconitum**

 _Liqueur de Rose_

 **23** **rd** **November, 1992**

As the bright lights flashed and the loud music pulsed in the crowded muggle club, Peter Pettigrew slowly made his way back to his friends, careful not to spill any liquor from the tiny glasses he clutched.

Moving around the dancing sweaty bodies with some difficulty, the young man heaved a sigh of relief once he reached their table, only to let out a panicked squeak when he almost slipped on a puddle of unidentified liquid.

James and Sirius both let out howls of laughter at the display, bolder and more affectionate with the too many drinks in their blood system, and even the reserved Remus joined in, though more softly, eyes full of amused sympathy.

"Only you, Wormtail, only you…"

Finally seated next to them, he ignored the flush rising to his cheeks, and passed along the new round of drinks.

Sighing, he settled more comfortably in the faux leather couch despite the many sticky patches and quietly observed his fellow Marauders. Cheeks flushed with the alcohol, the two dark haired animagii both sported a contented smile and seemed ready to start giving hugs, whereas the brown haired man kept looking around, having barely touched his drink since the beginning of the night.

The four friends spent a few minutes in silence before Remus' fidgeting got too much for James.

"Moony, calm down, will you?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't. We shouldn't even be here! You heard what Professor Dumbledore said at the last meeting, didn't you?"

"Yeah, of course I did, I was there too, remember?" Scowling, James ran his hand through his untamed dark hair. "Look, you're worried, I get that, and you have every reason to be so, but could we please, please, have this night just for us? I know you're anxious with your incoming problem of the month, but just for tonight, don't think about it or about those bastards, or Voldemort-" he ignored Peter's sharp gasp and Remus' disapproving glare, "and focus on the present moment, alright?"

"But James, there's a traitor amongst us! They have an actual spy in the Order, and we don't even have the slightest clue as to who it might be! How could I possibly stay calm and have a drink while knowing this!?"

"I know, but just for tonight, let's talk about the good things, yeah? Please. Tonight, you're with your best mates, and we'd rather die than betray you, am I right Wormy, Padfoot?!"

Wiping his sweaty hands on his thighs, the suddenly nervous young man gave a jerky nod before staring intently at his regretfully empty glass, ignoring Sirius' more extravagant response.

After a few seconds of unrelenting staring on the Potter heir's part, the tired werewolf gave up and let out a long sigh before giving his friend a sheepish smile.

"Well, I guess that this night is pretty special, huh? How are you feeling? Not too nervous, I hope."

"Are you kidding me? I'm not nervous, I'm bloody terrified! Trust me, OWLs and quidditch matches were nothing next to this! But at the same time…" Glazed eyes drifting away, he continued more softly. "At the same time, it's like I can't wait another second before we're officially married. Because, sure, I've never been so scared in my life, but I just know that, by tomorrow night, I'll never have been so happy either… You know what I mean?"

Peter didn't and he couldn't help but resent James for rubbing his obvious happiness and undying shared love in everyone's face.

But Remus, with his kind smile and soft voice, didn't seem to share his grudge.

"No. No, I can't say I do. But I'm happy for you, I really am."

Raising his still full glass, Sirius gave them his patented roguish grin.

"To love and willing enslavement!"

James let out a loud laugh, the sound drowning Remus' snort and Peter's eager chuckle.

"More than willing!"

The overly dramatic sigh Sirius gave had his best friend's lips twitching in anticipation.

"Won't you miss it, though? The delicate touch of a woman?"

At Sirius' wiggling eyebrows, James rolled his hazel eyes.

"Padfoot, I'm going to marry Lily, seems to me there will be plenty of 'delicate touch'. It's not like I will become celibate!"

"Well of course you won't! That's Remus' thing!"

"Oi, you know I'm not-! Oh, never mind…"

Ignoring the werewolf's intervention completely, the dark haired men stared at each other for some time before Sirius shook his head.

"So I guess that my idea to give you one last night with another woman…"

"Can be shot down, yes. Merlin, what is wrong with you!?"

His best friend let out a soft whine, looking at him imploringly beneath his dark bangs, something which could usually grant him virtually anything.

"C'mon Prongs! Enjoy your life as long as you can, before the marital claws trap you in! And – and think about the ladies, yeah? Who will save them from their loneliness, huh?"

"I'm sure you'll be more than enough to fulfil that heavy duty. And now, no one will drag you down anymore!"

Shaking his head, the roguish man flashed them a blinding grin.

"Well, can't argue with that…Still, I mean, I love Lily, obviously, but I don't think I will ever be able to settle with one person for the rest of my life. And seriously, you just admitted your feelings to each other, what? Two months ago? Don't you think that's a bit short to commit yourself to another for the _rest of your lives_?"

Coming from the infamously fickle Black, that apprehension wasn't so surprising.

"Yeah, but she isn't just that one random girl, you know? She's… She's Lily. I think I've loved her ever since that first Hogwart Express ride, and honestly I wouldn't know how to stop even if I wanted to. And c'mon, look around you Padfoot. We might not have much time left-" He ignored Sirius head shake and continued, "You know it's true! People are dying are scared and so am I! I know I love her and I know she loves me, and right now, that's all I need. Tomorrow, I will marry that wonderful, splendid, perfect woman and I'll spend as much time as I can with her, because she's the one, and nothing you can say will change my mind."

Sirius let out a long sigh before nodding slowly.

"I see that you are truly lost to the dark side-"

Remus interrupted him with an easy smile.

"The dark side? Really?"

"Yes, the dark side! Monogamy, if you prefer! While I'm not making any promise, I'll try to accept this devastating choice of yours. But here's my suggestion. Tomorrow, you start a new life with your dream girl, _fine_ , but tonight! Tonight, you'll tell us all about the other girls -and I know there's been a few- that way you get it all out, no regret, and we enjoy some dirty stories! It's genius!"

"Genius, genius…"

Remus' muttering was heard but unacknowledged by the dark haired duo.

After a moment of pause, James gave a slow nod and put his elbows on the sticky table.

"Okay… So, remember Louisa Termint in Ravenclaw?"

And that was how they spent the rest of the night, drinking and listening to James' tales, with Sirius' odd comments thrown here and there.

* * *

Stumbling toward the slowly rising Sun, they attracted the occasional disapproving or amused glance of early risers; Remus trying to shush Sirius who decided to wave and salute them in the most obnoxious way possible.

Tired from a sleepless night filled with laughter and drink, they decided to stop and seat on some hard bench covered in scrawling in various languages. They spent a few peaceful minutes in silence contemplating their still sleepy surroundings until James interrupted the harmonious atmosphere with a whisper, head thrown back and eyes closed.

"There was another one, another woman, early last month."

The confession roused Sirius from his almost unconscious state and he slowly turned his head toward his fellow Marauder.

"What?"

"On 2 October, we heard about the Prewett brothers, remember?"

His friends gave a slow nod, the memory of that day still etched in their minds, not ready to fade just yet. Learning how two of the Order's best fighters had been decimated, and in such a violent way too…

"Well that night, I almost snapped. All I wanted was to pack my things and go, and to never look back. I was so scared, so fucking scared, that I… Anyway, I did what everyone should do when their courage leaves them, I got drunk, like, really drunk. I was already pretty wasted when she arrived, that American woman. Called herself 'Poison Ivy'." He snorted lightly, shaking his head. "And you know, she just looked so much like Lily, except not; it was weird. And then, I don't know why, I told her everything about the war and how I was a wizard and there were others like me, so many others… That was weird too…"

"You did what?!"

The sudden disturbance made more than one head whip around in curiosity and discontentment, but none of the four friends could have cared less in this moment.

"James! What the hell don't you understand in _Statute of Wizarding_ _**Secrecy**_!?"

"What were you thinking about, you bloody idiot!?"

"I told you, it was weird! I knew I shouldn't have told her anything, but I just couldn't help it!"

At this, his werewolf friend looked warily at him.

"Wait, you didn't want to, but you still did it… Like you were under the Imperius curse?"

"I- Yes? But not really. I mean, I knew, while I was doing it, that I didn't want to do it, I was aware of it, not like the Imperius curse. I just wanted to… please her, I guess..."

After a few seconds of contemplative silence, Sirius shrugged.

"Maybe she was just that hot. What happened next?"

"We spent the night together, I woke up alone, and I realized that I needed to try one last time to admit my feelings to Lily before it was too late, and in a few hours, I will marry the woman that I love. End of the story."

Sirius, of course, focused on a particular part of the story.

"When you say you 'spent the night together', you mean you…"

Seeing his friend's wiggling eyebrows, James rolled his eyes so hard, he feared he might have sprained something.

"Yes Sirius, I mean that we had sex. Happy?"

"Just checking."

"Did you use protection at least?"

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Moony!"

"Did you?"

The exasperated young man let out yet another long sigh.

"No, we didn't." At Remus' reproachful look, he added grouchily, "we were both very drunk and it wasn't exactly a planned move!"

The disappointed werewolf kept staring at him wordlessly and his friend shifted uncomfortably.

"Anyway, I don't know about you guys, but I'm freezing my arse off over here."

At this Peter perked up.

"We should get back to the flat and start to prepare for tonight!"

The rebellious Black let out a relieved sigh and got up on sure legs, despite the frankly impressive amount of alcohol still present in his blood system, this short pause apparently enough for him to recuperate and finally stay steady.

With a grunt the rest of the Marauders followed suite and together, went on their way back home.

* * *

 **7 months later…**

As soon as Sirius stepped out of the chimney, he engulfed his oldest friend in a bear hug before quickly greeting the rest of his fellow Marauders.

"Thanks for coming, mate, it's good to see you."

"Prongs, what's happening? Is it Lily? Is she okay? Did she have a problem with the babies?"

Throughout his rabid questioning, the worried Animagus took care not to speak too loudly for the heavily pregnant mother's sake. She was currently bed-ridden upstairs with strict orders not to move under any circumstances, including using the bathroom; a situation the fiery redhead could barely tolerate but the health of the twins she carried were primordial.

"No, no, they're- they're fine. It's not about them. I- I called all of you here because I-…"

Despite the tension that had contaminated most of their interactions due to the omnipresent paranoia, the three other friends exchanged agitated looks. For the generally laid-back James, to see him so distraught, it was a rare and worrying sight indeed.

"Prongs, mate, what happened?"

Breathing deeply, the future father seemed to hold an inner debate before nodding slowly to himself.

"Right. Okay. So- Here's the thing- I trust you guys with my life, you know that, right?" Not waiting for a response, he continued. "Yesterday or early this morning, I can't really remember, I was walking around the house, just thinking about Lily and the twins, about how we would soon be a family, and it reminded me about the Family Tapestry and how my father always told me that family was the most important thing in the world, one of the only reason to fight for, and, I don't know, I just missed him so much, I wanted to see it one more time before we moved to Godric's Hollow, and that's when… That's when I saw it."

Sirius would have snapped at him not to play the pronoun game, but his friend seemed so troubled, he didn't dare. Finally, it was Remus who asked the question on everyone's mind, his voice even softer than usual.

"Saw what, James?"

But his friend just shook his head and led them through the Potter mansion, the oppressive silence during the walk only deepening the tension, none of the guests willing to break it. The air around them seemed to crackled as they reached the Tapestry room, James' hand hovering over the old doorknob. Taking a deep breath, the frazzled young man turned it reluctantly.

The sight of the ancient genealogical tree spread across the walls was rather oppressive to the disowned Black as he forcibly remembered his family's and what had happened to his portrait. Shaking off the now common bitterness he felt every time he thought about his dear mother, Sirius slowly looked around, searching for the reason of his friend's restlessness. Soon, his eyes settled on James' painted face, unsmiling for once, linked to a remarkably majestic Lily. Apart from reminding Sirius of unwanted memories, this was yet another reason the young man disliked those tapestries; they twisted the happiest man on earth until he looked like your typical, haughty pure-blood. At the base of the young couple portraits, young tree branches were slowly growing, which would soon join them to their future children's pictures. That simple thought made him feel lighter, happier, the idea that his friends were on their way to complete their family and that he would be there to witness it, and even maybe have a part in it… And that was when he saw _it_.

His widening onyx orbs followed that strange little vine, devious tiny snake hidden in the tree of knowledge's foliage, the devastative link between James Potter and one young Aster Isley Potter.

Hearing his sharp intake of breath, Sirius knew that Remus had seen the cause of their friend's worrying behaviour.

"What? What happened?"

Shaking his head to try and clear it, the bewildered werewolf pointed out the Problem with a trembling finger to the unobservant Peter. After a few seconds, everything finally clicked for the smallest Marauder.

"Oh."

"Yes, Peter. Oh."

* * *

"Tell me, _Wormtail_ , what news do you bring us here today, mmh?" Hearing the dangerous way his Lord's smooth voice caressed his nickname, Peter couldn't fight against a faint shiver and didn't respond. "Come now, don't be afraid! Am I scaring you Wormtail?"

Looking up from the polished marble he was kneeling on, the terrified young man barely caught sight of the smirk on his Lord's face before he hurriedly averted his gaze back to the ground, stuttering out the only answer susceptible to please his Master.

"Y-Yes, m- my Lord!"

The rich chuckle the terrible wizard let out was obviously pleased by the honest and flattering response, and his cowering follower barely held onto a relieved sigh.

"As predicted, the Order was totally blindsided by your attack last night and heavy losses. It will take them some time to recover from it…"

The Dark Lord hummed disinterestedly, already knowing all of this based on field information and logic alone.

"And? Is that it? Is that all you can tell me? How… disappointing."

Even Peter could recognize the obvious threat in his Lord's words and if possible, he bowed down even further, his forehead touching the cool floor.

"I- I-…" The traitor never thought faster about anything else in his life. "James!" At his Master's interested look, he didn't even hesitate. "He has a child! I- I mean, not with Lily, but with another girl! A little girl named Aster Isley Potter! It was before they got together, and- and…" His voice trailed off as he caught sight of the frown etched deep on his Lord's harsh face, and suddenly, his throat was as dry as the Sahara.

"A bastard girl? Tell me Wormtail, why would I care about a _bastard girl_ , hmm?"

Peter was on the verge of tears and he couldn't keep the tremolos out of his voice as he responded.

"I' don't know, my Lord, I'm- I'm deeply sorry, my Lord! I should have known better than to bother you with those trivial information, please my Lord, forgive me!"

With a sneer, Lord Voldemort lifted his elegant wand in a terrifyingly familiar gesture.

"I don't think so… _Crucio_!"

And thus started the song of misery for Peter.

* * *

 **AN: So, again, sorry for the late update, but because of very, VERY, important exams I couldn't start working on this before the beginning of july, and before that, I wanted to work on my other story, so...**

 **Also, this chapter just didn't want to be written. Let's just say I became very intimate with my 'delete' keyboard...**

 **Hope this chapter don't disappoint you, and that you don't believe that James will always be drunk. He'll be completly sober one day, I swear!**

 **Again, thank you all so much for your support and your kind words, it means a lot to me, hopefully the next chapters won't disappoint you! If you have any question, don't hesitate!**

 **Have a nice day/night.**


	5. Bloody Poppy

**AN: I do not own Harry Potter nor Batman. I'm just a hug-starved cactus.**

 **Aconitum**

 _Bloody Poppy_

 **31th October, 1994**

If there was one thing Ivy had learned since the beginning of her acquaintanceship with Angela Thompson, it was that waking up to slow, sarcastic clapping was _not_ a nice way to start the day.

Long eyelashes fluttered against the harsh light illuminating the bare, grey walls of her cell, a familiar sight that the super villainess hated with a passion, almost on par with her burning loathing for that damn vigilante, the responsible for her dull location.

Shifting around slowly, she couldn't hold back a groan as her tired muscles burned and protested against every careful movement. After a few seconds, she gave up and simply turned her head toward the source of the aggravating noise. As expected, the sight of her dark-skinned nurse greeted her, eyebrow raised and hands finally coming to a rest. For a while, both women did nothing but stare into each other's eyes, rainy earth meeting green leaves of summer.

"So… I'm confused. Is this all part of your master plan to end Batman? Cause I'm no expert in this whole 'ending your nemesis' thingy, but from where I'm standing, you're not really good at it."

Hearing the smug drawl, the fiery redhead bared her teeth, cursing her momentary weakness and inability to show that mongrel her place.

"He tricked me! It was all a trap, carefully planned to catch me! For a knight, honour doesn't seem very high on his list of priority."

"Aww, did the mean man stopped you from killing a dozen of innocent people? You poor, poor dear! Are you trying to make me cry? You know I'm a sensitive woman!"

The prisoner watched unamused as the nurse wiped away a non-existent tear.

"Drop it. _Now_."

Angela allowed herself a small smirk, a rush of smugness coursing through her. Being one of the few people able to get under the infamous Poison Ivy's skin never failed to make her smile.

"And they _weren't_ innocent." The green goddess added quietly. "They all have my people's blood on their hands, just not on their conscience. I just wanted to let them know how it felt to be decimated simply because they were in the way."

Angela's grin slowly faded away, recognizing in her patient's eyes the usual heart wrenching loss and blind anger that went hand in hand with that subject. Though of course, the usual madness was still swirling in the emerald orbs. Not for the first time, Angela wondered if the botanist could feel every ripped blade of grass and petal, every careless death, forced to endure the endless massacre of her children, unable to save them all.

Considering her grieving charge, the nurse lightly shook her head. Tonight, she would not ask of the misunderstood vigilante to stop her useless fight; not that she would ever qualify the redhead's struggle as such in front of her.

Letting out a quiet breath, the tired woman shifted slowly from one feet to the other.

"So, which hideout?"

"Third one."

"Same security system?"

"No, I had to upgrade it a bit." At her nurse's raised eyebrow, she let out a pained breath. "Someone tried to break in recently, three times this past two weeks. The same intruder each time, no matter the greenhouse. I had to move around to try and shake him off. The bastard burned down two of them. I had to leave with Aster, but I swear to Gaia, if I ever get my hands on him… Though this one's persistent, I'll give him that. Usually there's not enough of them left to try again."

Angela gave a grimace of agreement. She had seen enough rabid plants play with desecrated body parts to know not to mess with the sentient things.

"Okay, well then, I'll be careful with the kid. My shift's almost over anyway, she won't have to wait too long. See ya."

With a nod and a wave, the hidden witch turned around, dragging her feet with some effort. She had nearly made it out of the corridor when the unusually quiet voice barely reached her ears.

"Or you could spare yourself the trouble, and free me."

Angela didn't even turn, stopping a few steps before the doorway. Sighing once again, she raised her eyes up to the brightly lit ceiling, blinking against the dark spots swimming in her vision. She knew they were forgetting something in their routine.

"And end up back in jail right with you, this time on the wrong side of the bars? We already talked about this, many, many times, if you'll remember. They already suspect something is up between us. If I did help you escape again, you would be back here in a month top, and I wouldn't be allowed to be anywhere near you anymore. Not that I would really complain about that, but this is not about me, or even you for that matter. Now, try and get some sleep, I'll contact you if anything goes wrong."

And with that, she was gone, leaving Poison Ivy alone on her thin cot, worrying and longing yet again for her most precious flower.

* * *

"Honey, I'm home…"

With a loud sigh, Angela leaned against the closed door of the well-hidden greenhouse, tired limbs sagging and feelings slowly returning to her freezing fingers. The exhausted nurse didn't even move as a thick liana poked at her a few times, the examination feeling uncomfortably like licking, well used to this strange welcome by now. Apparently satisfied with its observations, the exotic plant retreated back to wherever it came from, leaving her alone. It was quickly replaced by a large, closed flower. As it opened, a loud _pshitt_ echoed in the small entrance as an unknown, poisonous gas was blasted right in her face. The toxin present in it was even more deadly than the one ever-present in the air, but Angela had beneficiated from Ivy's cocktail at the beginning of their… partnership? God, she hoped not. Spending the rest of her life in jail for complicity was not what she'd signed for.

"Hello to you too…"

Grumbling under her breath, the unharmed witch side-stepped yet another deadly trap, then spent a whole minute fighting with her coat for a while before finally wrestling it into submission. Throwing it on the mostly destroyed couch covered in dead, poisonous leaves, Angela stumbled to the slightly ajar door, discretely looking inside. Finding her young charge tossing lightly in her sleep, cute baby face scrunching and small hands reaching for someone who was now quite far away, she let out an annoyed sigh through her nose. This was now the second time in a month Mother Nature's champion had been caught and thrown back in jail. She was becoming more and more careless, more and more violent in her pursue of vengeance for her brethren. To Angela, she was simply choosing them over her daughter. Of course, she knew it wasn't that simple, that the sleeping babe was part of the redhead's reasons for wanting to build a better world for all her children, but what was the point if the tiny Aster could only see her mother on the front page of Gotham News in a garish orange jumpsuit or a dirty straitjacket?

The one-year old toddler needed her mother, not an out of reach Utopia.

Tip-toeing to the baby cot, Angela put her hand on Aster's stomach and lightly rubbed in circle, a comforting gesture that never failed to calm her down. After a few seconds, the baby let out a light coo, smacked her lips a few times, and finally opened her eyes, staring at her without blinking. Those wild, wild eyes of hers seemed so strange on the innocent face. She always seemed feral, even with drool dripping down her chin and a toothless smile, creating one hell of a disturbing contrast.

As she fitfully kicked out her tiny feet, Aster cutely frowned and let out a few unhappy noises.

With a tsk, the nurse straightened up and went to the kitchen, where another sentient liana was already checking the temperature of the cooling water, the proper dose of milk powder already out. How the hell could it check the ideal temperature for a baby bottle, Angela didn't know, but it sure was useful. Those plants of Ivy's seemed to be multi-tasked and efficient enough to not let the toddler die in her mother's absence, and Angela decided to let them do their jobs, though technically hers.

"You know, if I wasn't sure you would try and kill me as soon as we were out of here, I'd bring you back home and marry you."

She received no answer to her tired joke. Though extremally competent nannies, skilled conversationalists they were not.

While entertaining herself with thoughts of presenting her leafy spouse to her parents and having a family dinner with them, the liana busied herself preparing the baby bottle, careful and almost loving in its every movement.

Soon Aster's dinner was ready, and after feeding the hungry girl, Angela gazed at her silently, waiting for her to fall back asleep. As always, it didn't take long for that to happen, as the toddler had the enviable capacity to sleep anytime and under near every circumstance without any problem.

Though at first the reluctant criminal's accomplice had been rather unnerved by the baby's… oddities, what with her eyes and her quiet nature, by now, she found her presence and the silence to be truly comforting after hours of working with screaming, laughing lunatics, their shrill and demented voices often causing her headaches.

But the greenhouse was half an hour away from the oh-so noisy city of Gotham, with its police sirens and loud shouting like a perpetual soundtrack which would just. Not. _Stop._

After rubbing the baby's belly one last time, Angela went back to her seat in the kitchen and laid her head on the cool table, content to just stay there in the dark for a while. Fortunately, the greenhouse being inhabited by so many exotic plants, the temperature was warm enough to not need a second layer of clothing, and so, Angela didn't need to worry about that for a while. With the exhaustion coupled with the warm climate, the nurse didn't' stand a chance. Falling asleep, she could only hope the strange position would have mercy on her back.

* * *

Angela had never been good at this "waking up" thingy. Not when she was a kid, certainly not as a teenager and still today, she needed a good hour and at least two cup of coffee to function properly.

As it was, being shaken awake by an indelicate liana did not replace her beloved caffeine, but she was just pissed off enough to crack her bloodshot eyes open. Of course, having a stare-off with a plant, albeit a creepily advanced one, wasn't anywhere near as satisfying as one could hope, which only serve to further annoy the nurse. Her cranky question came out in a growl, which could have been intimidating if it wasn't for her sleepy voice, muffled by the wet table. Angela grimaced. She really had to stop drooling in her sleep. Even if, admittedly, the thought of drooling on Poison Ivy's kitchen table was a very pleasant one.

" _What, now?_ "

The tugging continued, the plant obviously unable to vocalize its plight and Angela let out a frustrated growl. Straightening from her position, her back made a satisfying popping sound. Shaking her head and climbing to her feet with some difficulties, she was about to complain a bit more when she heard it. This noise, this distinctive noise, like the crackling of a Taser, could only mean one thing. Magic.

There was another wizard in this this greenhouse, probably hostile. Her earlier conversation with the ecoterrorist struggled to resurface in her quickly waking brain, but if the mysterious arsonist responsible for the destruction of Ivy's beloved greenhouses was a fellow magic-user…

That fact didn't surprise the witch as much as it could have, considering Poison Ivy's abilities to piss off anyone she'd ever met. What was another wizard compared to a grown man dressing up as giant broody bat?

Still, the fact that the liana had chosen to wake her up meant that the security system had failed. Had it succeeded to neutralize the hostile presence, she would have simply saw a mangled corpse dangling from the ceiling first thing in the morning. She knew. Unfortunately.

And so, it was with a cautious mind that Angela retrieved her wand from her coat and hurried to Aster's room. She didn't know what had Ivy done to the intruder, but she would not let anyone harm the girl. Not on her watch.

* * *

 **Two weeks ago**

Lord Voldemort was not having a nice day, or even a nice month for that matter. And it all had started with a prophecy of all things.

" _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches..._

 _Born to those who have thrice defied him,_

 _Born as the seventh month dies..."_

The sheer absurdity of it all was truly grating. As though some pesky new-born could ever be a match for the most infamous Dark Lord Great Britain had ever seen!

Still, he had gone too far to let his pride get in the way, and if there was one thing that even _he_ wouldn't dare to do, it was questioning the might of magic, not matter how much of a blight divination was amidst its many branches.

Yes, the divination field was a pathetic waste of magic use, but _prophecies_ … In a way, he had always known that he would be the subject of at least one. After all, was he not Lord Voldemort, slayer of the Light? Of course, the Fates themselves would warn some useless wench of his greatness, it was only a matter of time, really.

But to think they would predict his downfall, and that the cause of it would be a mere babe too… No.

He had gone too far, done too much to stop here. The prophecy and the Fates be damned, He. Would. Not. Die. He'd bent destiny over until it screamed and shattered before he would admit defeat.

And so, he thought about which babe would have the honour to die by his very hand.

The options were limited, of course. Only a handful of people had slipped between his fingers, let alone three times and very few of them had been foolish enough to procreate in this time of war. Only two couples fitted those specific criteria. Alice and Frank Longbottom, and Lily and James Potter. And per that _blasted_ prophecy, one of their hellish spawns, a pure-blood and two half-bloods, would be his executioner.

The heir of the long line of pure, proper wizards, or the offspring of a sullied noble and his dirty, mudblood whore?

The reasonable answer was blindingly obvious, and yet… In the deepest part of his mind called _Tom Marvolo Riddle_ , one he loathed to even simply acknowledge the existence of, he couldn't help but remember a young but bright orphan sorted in Slytherin, in the favourite nest of the old and noble families, rejected and scorned for his, admittedly, foul blood. But who was leading those men and women who carried Britain's magic's might in their every cell? Wasn't it he, 'Tommy the Muddy'?

But he knew that he was an exception, an anomaly of a sort. Magic itself had chosen him as its champion and so, he had been gifted with more power than most men could even dream of. So, whomever was _the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord_ , it would be foolish to assume their blood status should matter, at least in this very precise instance.

But that line of thought was dangerous, for it led him to another, less probable and so much more suspicious culprit: the bastard girl of James Potter.

Born of a noble and a stranger's union, the babe had at first been put in the deepest recess of his brilliant mind, a possible pressure point if the war was to take longer than expected. The mad idea that she could be another suspect on his short list hadn't even occurred to him before a long, near sleepless week drove him precisely to the brink of insanity.

 _Pacing in his chamber, eyes burning and head pounding, his fingers twitched with the need to cast a well-deserved_ _ **crucio**_ _on one of his decidedly useless Death Eaters. The Order of that bloody roasted chicken was being more of a thorn in his side than anticipated lately, disturbing five muggle raids in this past month alone, their response too quick for them to have merely noticed the disturbance. No, it was almost as though they had already been on place, waiting for them. Which meant that they had a spy of their own amidst his ranks. And_ _ **that**_ _was unacceptable. Once he'd found the filthy traitor, the_ _ **crucio**_ _would feel like a mere caress after he was done expressing his … disappointment._

 _But who… Who could be foolish enough to dare betray the Dark Lord? His pure-blooded lieutenant would have nothing to gain from such treason, which only left the rest of his ranks, the canon-fodders. But even then, those pathetic half-bloods were rarely if ever trusted with the location of their raids, often remaining clueless even as they tortured and killed an entire village of_ _ **disgusting**_ _muggles._

 _He had to admit, though, that old coot Dumbledore had surprised him. How delightfully underhanded of him to use a spy… He had not seen that one coming from the righteous Light leader, a thrilling and worrying surprise indeed… But now was not the time for the mud-blood lover to show his scales. He was too close to see all his efforts rendered useless after years of preparation. And so, he had no choice but to focus his precious time and intellect on finding the traitor amidst his ranks._

 _Now let's see, who could it be? Malfoy, the Lestranges, Nott, Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle were out, too involved in the effort or too stupid to tie their own shoelaces to be the culprit. The young Snape? No, he had been the one to bring back the news of the blasted prophecy, and despite his strange fondness for the mud-blood girl, Potter's whore, a simple promise to spare her had seemed to placate him._

 _The reminder of his other problem caused a spike of pain to rush through his head. That prophecy needed desperately to be taken care of, and yet, here he was, searching for a soon to be dead traitor. Whoever they were, they would pay for being such a nuisance at the most inopportune of time, and this, he swore on his Slytherin blood! But for the love of Morgana, he could not think of any other serious suspect. The only person weak and slimy enough to try something so stupid was the pathetic little Wormtail, and he didn't trust him enough to boil the water for the bloody four-o'clock. Interrogating him on the matter hadn't given him anything, and he made sure to show the vile rat his ire._

 _Breathing heavily through his nostrils, he spent a few seconds staring at the glass of water sitting innocently on the dresser, seriously considering the idea of throwing it around, just to leave a physical proof of his annoyance with the situation. Letting out a slow breath, he closed his eyes and forced himself to clear his mind and focus on what mattered. As a talented occlumentist, probably the best, really, the simple exercise was child's play, and in moments, he had returned to his usual calmness, the rapid change from burning anger to icy uncaring frightening to witness._

 _What really mattered? The traitor. The Prophecy._ _ **Not**_ _Wormtail…._

 _For some strange reason, the association of those last two rang a distant bell in the Dark Lord's mind. Yes, Wormtail had told him about the Order's reaction to its existence, how the Longbottoms and the Potters had gone into hiding, and how his friend had chosen fellow blood-traitor Sirius Black as his Secret Keeper over him and the creature, his enemies out of reach for the foreseeable future. And wasn't that another pesky detail getting in his way, yet another source of concern troubling his busy mind? But no, that wasn't what had made him tick. What else then?_

 _Wormtail. The Prophecy. Wormtail. The Prophecy. Wormtail…_

 _The distant memory of a nocturnal report from the pesky animagus flickered to life, and the Dark Lord frowned. Something irrelevant enough for him to push it back in a dark corner of his mind, but not so useless as to completely forget it. So, what was it? He remembered the cool night and the heady power of a crucio curse, the sweet scream of the victim filling the air. Voldemort scowled, scrutinizing the memory further, looking, searching for the elusive information. What. Was._ _ **IT**_ _? As though summoned by his anger, the object of his ire was dragged from the deepest parts of his mind._

 _Potter. A girl. A Potter girl. No, better than that a girl born from the blood-traitor and a muggle stranger… A_ _ **bastard**_ _! Created in a moment of confused passion in October, living with her mother, far away from her oh-so noble sire… The startling familiarity in the situation left a bitter after taste in his mouth; or maybe it was just the combination of potions keeping him awake and alert after so many days away from his tempting bed. It was strange though, for the young Snape's draughts usually blended rather well and their effects, always immediate and powerful, seemed to be dulling lately. Hmmm, he would need to have a few words with his distraught brewer in the coming weeks… But first, he needed to deal with this new twist in his careful planning._

 _But could she really be considered a threat? Her, a simple bastard?_

 _No, he couldn't allow himself to follow that line of thinking,_ _the sheer hypocrisy of this statement so thick he would be choking on it._

 _Something had to be done about this new player, and quickly._

 _In his ragged state, the lack of sleep added to his fevered realisation of the similarities between him and the girl, the Dark Lord didn't stop to consider the second line of the dreaded prophecy…_

After a quick and painful session of Legilimency with the spineless Peter, all the Dark Lord knew about the girl's mother was that she was American, beautiful, and went by the _ridiculous_ name of Poison Ivy. Clearly, she could have used a few advices when choosing her ludicrous patronym.

While Voldemort could have easily sent someone to take care of the little problem, it would raise too many eyebrows, and he couldn't afford that, not so close from his objective. Victory was near, he could almost taste it. If any of his subjects were to learn he suspected a bastard to be his prophesised downfall, it could everything in peril. No, he needed to be the one doing the job, he could taste it in the air, feel it in his bones. Magic herself wanted him to go oversea and destroy his possible foe, and She had never led him astray before. He would follow Her once again, return to his army, and then he would take care of the other three suspects, just to be sure. It would also allow him to finally rest without worrying about babes killing him in his sleep, annoying as it was.

And so, after meeting with his inner circle and informing them of his little trip – and quieting their following questions in his usual impatient manner – he used an international portkey of his own fabrication, reaching the so-called Land of Opportunity within a few minutes.

Not necessarily knowing where to start looking for the ridiculously named woman and her spawn, his choice of landing place was the only American city he'd ever visited in his youth, looking to learn more about a reviled branch of magic in England, the infamous, but noble art of Voodoo.

Voldemort let the dark magic hovering in the New Orleans nocturnal air merge with his own core, the two blood-drenched elements falling in a twisted embrace, each trying to smother the other and absorb it, neither surrendering, their bloodthirst singing in unison.

It didn't feel as ancient as the witchcraft back in the old Albion, and was, in comparison, laughably young, and yet he could feel the power pulsing everywhere around him. He could almost see the fight between the two, the withered wizard wielding his wand with experience and great knowledge, teaching a lesson to the young, ambitious sorcerer trying to prove himself, using tricks and the blood of his enemy.

Yes, the Dark Lord decided, this was as good a place as any to start looking for the troublesome duo.

* * *

It didn't take long for him to find all the information he was looking for. In fact, he hadn't even needed to use any of his less elegant methods of questioning and he tried to forget his disappointment for the moment. The lack of gore was probably for the best, he grudgingly admitted. After all, it would not do to alert the foreign authorities so soon. He was not ready yet, as grating as it was, he first had to take care of Britain, but soon, the rest of the world would be his, as it should be. Magic demanded no less of him. Yes, he would usher the entire world in a new era, where magic would roam the Earth again, fearless, with him as her chosen master, and those who had ever spoken against their might would beg for Death, but she too would heed only his command.

A shiver of anticipation ran down his spine and a slow smile played upon his thin lips.

But first thing first, the bastard and her mother, the apparently infamous Poison Ivy. The eco terrorist, whatever that meant, seemed to favour creating chaos in the city of Gotham.

Upon arriving there, the Dark Lord was not impressed. The many skyscrapers seemed to tower over anything and everything, almost intimidating in their own way. He despised them as soon as he saw those ridiculously high towers, almost disappearing in the grey clouds. What were they trying to prove, he wondered?

It took him longer to find the pair than he cared to admit, but the name Poison Ivy, an obvious alias, was not enough for him to use the simple _point me_ charm, and it was only after further investigation he found out who was hiding behind the patronym, one Pamela Isley, a mere _botanist_.

But finally, he was here, the greenhouse seemingly mocking him with the warm yellow light casting soft shadows on its surroundings, giving their home a strangely welcoming hue.

He hated it, unsure as to why exactly. Maybe because he had expected something greyer, something unfairly harsh and unloving, made of stone and cold light, the smell of rotting wood hovering in the air, with glaring eyes following his every step, always judging, but oh-so full of fear. A place where everything seemed to be destined to die and be forgotten, except for those willing to fight, to kill, until they were the last one standing.

But this didn't look like a haunted house, full of a bitter orphan's memories, special even amongst his kind, forever fighting those who tried to keep him away from his destiny, the one written by magic herself.

This greenhouse was not the house of his nemesis, the one the Fates had, in a desperate attempt to stop him, created, only for her to die a year later at his hand, for no one could stop him now, he had made sure of it on six occasions.

This was no prophesised "saviour", just a brat he had been foolish enough to believe was in any way like him.

The Dark Lord could have walked away. He could have easily created another portkey, and in a few minutes, returned to England. Sooner or later, he would find his way around that blasted _Fidelius_ charm, kill the much more likely suspects, and soon enough, the world would be in his palm, ready to be cradled or crushed, a slave to his every whim.

Yes, the Dark Lord could have walked away. But he didn't.

Instead, his trusted wand in hand, he stepped into the warm light of the greenhouse, and with a quick _Alohomora_ , the door was pushed open.

He hadn't expected the chaos triggered by such a small action, plants flailing wildly, some snapping their jaws at him and lianas slithering around his ankles, the threatening hissing of a toxic gas near his right ear, all at the same time. But this was not his first battlefield and he quickly regained his wits. His wand snapped up, and calling upon his anger and untameable will, a serpent made of fire and magic was unleashed. For anyone else, it might have seemed excessive to use such a destructive spell, just to get rid of a few plants, but Voldemort was _not_ in the mood. A quick bubble-head charm was all it took to render the toxins in the air useless, and watching the foolish flora slowly die a fiery death, he could almost relax amidst the chaos.

But he had more pressing matters to attend, and so, he pushed forward, using his thin control over the _Fiendfyre_ he directed the chimera-like flame to emblaze the seemingly infinite plants, reducing them to ashes upon the slightest contact.

Entering what appeared to be the living room in this dreadful greenhouse, the Dark Lord looked around, noting the cheap-looking furniture and the scientific material littering nearly every surface available. He could feel a sneer twisting his once beautiful traits, his disgust clear for the world to see. A _scientist_. The muggle's desperate attempts to equal the power of their better, to try and reduce the gigantic gulf separating them, like an ant's laughable efforts to reach the clouds.

Aside from the cluster of useless objects, the room was empty. The vermin were hiding, then. How original. He could still feel a lingering sense of magic, the smell of earth after a storm and still crackling ozone embracing the air, but one seemed more present than the other, as though two magic-users had been here, but one of them was just visiting. How peculiar…

Unfortunately, even he, with his considerable power and will, could not take his focus out of the _Fiendfyre_. At least, not without inflicting heavy consequences upon himself, for the deadly spell would only seek the closest source of human life, and with the dreaded pair Merlin knew how far, the mighty cursed flame would not take long to make its choice.

The Dark Lord let it feast on its victims, waiting for it to attack a new player in the game, an enormous flower-like plants in which you could fit several Crabbes & Goyles without fear. As the previously independent flames reunited to get through its surprisingly fire-resistant multiple layers, he abruptly severed the connection. Just as the magnificent inferno decided to give up their victim in favour of a tastier and more human prey, Lord Voldemort reached into his tainted core and called forth a torrent of enchanted water, so closely linked to his magic it gained a dark hue, the normally neutral liquid feeling strangely malevolent. As the two supernatural elements collided, a great hissing sound filled the small room, the dense mist making it hard to see and the suddenly stifling atmosphere made it painful to even breathe. He knew the fight would not be easily won, for one didn't summon what many suspected to be hellfire without consequences. He knew, thanks to many researches, that the spell was originally used to extract revenge on someone, to reduce them, their belongings and their loved ones to naught but ashes, with no hope for them to fight back. The price for such a power was, unsurprisingly enough, the caster's own life. It was a crafty dark wizard who had the idea of unleashing an equally malicious flow of water and let them have at it. But that solution was more than taxing and though he outwardly showed no signs of it, Lord Voldemort could feel his core depleting at an alarming rate, the _Fiendfyre_ having grown to unexpected proportion thanks to its many victims and his own anger at the time of the casting of the spell.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he could feel the cursed fire being reduced to mere embers and withholding an out-of-character sigh of relief, the Dark Lord abruptly cut off the flow.

Now with a nearly empty core and his prey too far for him to catch up with in his state, the Dark Lord retreated, his anger only growing.

And the danger surrounding the threatened mother and daughter only grew further with the second and third spoiled attempt, for they would just. Not. Die. And that, more than anything, was the best way to piss off a dark lord trying, and failing, to kill you.

* * *

Angela closed the door behind her with a soft click and hurriedly crossed the small bedroom, peering at the already awake baby girl in the crib. Little mouth slightly open, drool dripping down her chin, Aster looked up at her, a troubled glint in her strange wide eyes. She couldn't possibly not what was happening, and yet, even she could feel the sudden chill in the air despite the warm temperature of her room. But she was silent, thank Morgana, and Angela quickly gathered the girl in her arms, small body resting easily against her bosom, and closing her eyes, she turned sharply on her heels.

But the now familiar gut-wrenching sensation, still sickening after all these years, did not come.

For a moment, Angela simply stood there, dumbfounded. But hearing the growing commotion outside the room, she turned again, and again, and again. But nothing happened.

 _That's_ when she started panicking.

Because for all she spent her days in Asylum, surrounded by crazies and dangerous criminals, she had always been comforted by the weight of her rarely used wand in her pocket, the knowledge that, if she so desired, she could probably blow up the damned institution, and get away with it.

At least, with the muggle side of the law.

But another wizard? One whose magic was dark enough for her and the baby to feel it in the air? Hell no. Because there was a reason she hadn't been able to find her place in the magical world, and it wasn't because of her overwhelming performances. She had barely scrapped by her last year of school, and it was not for a lack of trying.

So yes, she was a mediocre witch, and apparently, she was about to die.

She felt something humid spread across her chest. Looking down, she was met with a growing spot of drool and those eerie green eyes. And though she most certainly did not calm down, her focus shifted from her incoming death to the girl's.

Her arms trembling, Angela put the baby down in her cot again, and turned her back on her. If she was to die, she would make herself useful one last time.

Her thoughts unexpectedly turned to her late uncle Sam on her father side, who had died choking on a chicken bone, and she mused that, perhaps, there were worse things to die for.

* * *

This time, he did not call forth the malicious _Fiendfyre._ He didn't need to, for he knew the mother to be away in some sort of primitive prison, a far cry from Azkaban. The girl would be alone, or guarded by some muggle, which was more or less the same. He toyed a bit with the sentient plants, amused by their chaotic movements and their apparent belief that they could cause him any harm.

But he soon grew bored of them, and quickly reduced them to ashes, no cursed fire involved. With almost light steps, he crossed the room, soon arriving in front of what he knew to be the girl's room, the feel of her magic easily recognizable. Interestingly enough, it seemed someone had hastily thrown a locking charm on the door, a desperate attempt to stop him, but which in the end, only served to further amuse him. So, the girl was not alone, but protected by a magic-user, a rather weak one, certainly, but still.

The charm didn't even slow him down.

Standing in the doorway, his twisted shadow stretched out, reaching the trembling mess of a woman in front of the crib. And what a pitiful guardian she was.

But for all her weakness, the lass was magical, and so, he gave her one chance.

"Out of my way, silly girl!"

Upon hearing his hissing voice, the dark-skinned woman's shaking only grew worse. And yet, she still found the strength to respond.

"Neve- "

She was interrupted by a blast of green light, eyes and corpse lifeless as she fell to the ground with a dull _thud_.

Oh, well. He'd tried.

Stepping over the fresh body, he looked down upon the impostor, the girl who had foolishly made him assume she was a threat to him, the greatest Dark Lord that would ever live.

The brat stared up at him for a second, green eyes filled with tears, before looking around as best as she could in her laying position, probably searching for the recently deceased witch.

The silent dismissal coupled with the lack of anguished cries was quite grating to the already annoyed wizard. But he was about to make sure she would stay silent forever, and the simple thought was enough for a truly sinister smile to unfurl upon his lips.

Lifting his wand in a practice gesture, the Dark Lord met Aster Isley's eyes for what was sure to be the last time.

" _Avada KEDAVRA_!"

And Lord Voldemort knew no more.

* * *

Half an hour away from the ever-busy city of Gotham, late on the 31st October, a greenhouse exploded.

In a suddenly burning bedroom, the body of a brave woman rested peacefully next to a pile of ashes, unable to hear the cries of a baby girl, a lightning bolt-shaped scar upon her brow, dark tuffs of hair moving along the flames licking at the walls, and the greenest of eyes glinting with tears and a flash of silver.

In a bare cell in an asylum, Gaia's champion woke up, a terrible scream on her lips, and body brimming with untamed power.

Soon, the mother would hold her child close to her chest, refusing to ever let go of her again and weeping over the loss of a dear ally. But for now, wild plants across the Arkham Asylum answered her call, gathering and forming one monstrous entity, having only one purpose in mind: to reunite a mother and her daughter, no matter the cost.

* * *

 **AN: So... I'm not dead.**

 **I do apologize for the -very, very- late chapter, but I kept typing, and deleting, and typing again, and deleting again, and, well... Here we are. One of the reasons it took me so much time wrapping this up was that I was wondering if I should let James live. For now, he will, but I'd really like to hear (or read, I guess) your thoughts about it.**

 **Hope this chapter wasn't disappointing and that you'll stick around to know what's coming next. Harley should be meeting Ivy in the next chapter, or the one after that. Thank you for following and/or "favoriting" this story, you guys are great.**

 **Have a nice Day/Night,**

 **Mistake Experience.**


	6. Bubble Gum

**AN: I own neither Harry Potter nor Batman. I'm just a monochrome Bird of Paradise.**

 **Aconitum**

 _ **Bubble Gum**_

 _A year later_

 _14th November, 1996_

 _Arkham Asylum, outskirts of Gotham City_

Closing her eyes against the harsh lights, Poison Ivy turned on her side, facing the blank wall. After a few seconds, she rolled on her stomach, face pressed to the thin coat. Her brow furrowed, lips pinched in displeasure.

Try as she might, she could not tune out the screaming and jeering of her fellow inmates and already, a monstrous headache threatened to make this day even worse, quite an impressive feat indeed.

Gaia, but did those lunatics have to be so loud and obnoxious? Could they not simply brood in silence, like adults?

Then again, she mused, what else could be expected from humans, what with their need to shove their toxic presence in her face every single day?

Hearing a particularly shrill laugh, she burrowed even further in the wood-like mattress, barely muffling her groan. The nuisances only seemed to grow louder at that dreadfully familiar sound. Of course, because why wouldn't Batman bring in the blasted clown while she was still stuck here? Did that man had any decency left? She often wondered.

The clanking of night sticks against the metal bars certainly didn't help, and she added the guards to her 'to kill-list', cursing the entirety of human race all the while.

A few minutes later though, the screaming changed to wolf-whistles and crude comments, a treatment reserved to anything with legs, and thus not particularly rare if terribly annoying, but Poison Ivy was just bored enough to see what the fuss was all about. Leaning against the glass of customized cell, she only had to wait a few seconds to see the poor lass who unleashed such passions in the local criminal population and she was not disappointed.

Fidgeting nervously with her glasses, the pretty newcomer seemed ill at ease, surrounded by Gotham's finest elements peering at her, hunger clear in their eyes. Her rain-soaked blonde bangs clung to her pale forehead, skin almost translucent under the artificial lights. Sticking close to Dr. Leland, the two appeared to chat, though the raucous jeering of her fellow inmates made it impossible for Poison Ivy to hear the details. Before she could even catch a glimpse of the newbie's eyes, the pair was out of sight; but if the white coat the blonde sported was any indication, it would not take long for their paths to cross again. If she had anything to say about it though, the later, the better.

In the meantime, the worried mother had a headache to fight and an escape to plan.

* * *

 _16th November 1996_

 _Greenhouse n°3, outskirts of Gotham_

Slightly out of breath, Poison Ivy leaned against the glass door, deeply inhaling the air full of toxins surrounding her. Despite the late hour, the sun having set quite some time ago, she could hear the disembodied voices coming from further down the hall. Green eyes fluttering shut, she let a now familiar sadness spread through her limbs. With a sigh, she shrugged out of the garish orange jumpsuit and tugged her oversized white shirt down, bare feet padding softly on the cold tiles.

Once she reached her destination, she let her eyes wander around the dark room, tiredly observing the empty glasses scattered across the floor along with the few orphan socks and soft toys. Finally though, her gaze landed on the object of all her affections and conflicted thoughts.

There, resting against the couch, tiny legs stretched before her on the floor, Aster slept. The pale light shining from the TV screen flickered across her chubby cheeks and her button nose, shadows shifting around constantly, and an uneasy feeling coursed through Poison Ivy. The untamed hair of her daughter now reached her round chin, even though the botanist could have sworn it barely tickled her ears only a week ago. She knew of course that it wasn't possible, but it was small details like these that made her guts twist. How much was she missing, every day she wasn't spending time with her precious bud? Would she come home one day, only to find Aster running around, talking about college and paychecks? Or worse, would she find the house empty, abandoned, no trace of her daughter to be found?

On that night, over two years ago, she had escaped from Arkham with a violence seldom reached, and reached one of her safe house only to find a mess of melted glass and burnt plants. The sight alone had nearly killed her. In that moment her body had failed her, limbs unmoving, lungs crushed and heart stuck in her throat. All was lost. For the first time in years, she let herself crumble under the weight of her grief. The losses, the rage, their indifference. And now this. Her precious little bud was no more, leaving only a hole of her size in her mother's heart.

It was only after her wails had quieted that she'd heard it. Small cries and whimper coming from behind the ruins of her greenhouse. There she had found her, alive and breathing. She'd no longer smelled the odious stench of burnt grass or felt the unbearable heat, clinging to everything. No, as soon as her eyes found her precious one, nothing else had mattered. Falling to her knees, she had reached with trembling fingers, barely brushing the angry scar on her forehead, shaped like lightning. Slowly, her hand had moved to the burn starting from the end of her right eyebrow, disappearing in her small tuff of hair in a thin line. A semi-burnt liana loosely wrapped around her daughter's body twitched slightly, once, twice, and then no more. Closing her eyes, she'd wept for her lost children. She had failed them. All of them. This had to end. One way or another. Tomorrow, she would avenge them, but tonight she would weep and hold her daughter until she felt whole again. Never again, she had sworn on that night. But how much longer could she keep her promise?

She found that this train of thought made it increasingly harder for her to breathe, and she felt the mad, desperate _need_ to hold her baby girl close to her heart and bury her nose in those wild locks of hers.

Crouching next to the resting child, she tenderly brushed away a few stray hair, fingers trailing lightly down her face. As slowly as she could bear, the impatient mother gathered her daughter in her arms, cheeks pressed together, and for the first time in a week, Poison Ivy could finally, truly breathe. Greedily inhaling her daughter's fragrance, she basked in the smell of earth after a rainstorm and the flower fields that would grow from it. Rocking gently from side to side, she made her way to the TV, struggling to switch it off without disturbing her girl's sleep. She didn't enjoy the sweet silence for long though, as the sudden lack of noise roused Aster from her rest, shifting closer to her mother's warmth.

In a soft voice reserved only for her brethren and her sweet petal, Ivy greeted her daughter.

"Hey there, baby girl. Shhh, it's okay, it's just me, you can go back to sleep now, darling."

"Moma? Dida fall asleep?" The enamoured mother only hummed in a response to the sleepy queries. "Sorry, A tried ta wait fo' you."

The hold on the criminal's heart tightened.

"Oh no, darling, you know you shouldn't!" she softly scolded, "That's not good for you, dear, you need to sleep to grow up."

"But then, A would never see you..."

And that sad mumble just about crushed her.

"Oh, little one..."

Cradling her even closer to her bosom, the pair slowly made their way to the only bedroom of the smallest of their hideout. Carefully, she lowered herself and her girl on the unmade bed, reaching blindly for the fallen duvet.

"I'll always be there."

"Promise?" Came the muffled reply.

And Poison Ivy, choking on something that she could not, _would not_ name, gave the only correct answer.

"Promise."

And while her daughter slept peacefully, safe in her mother's embrace, Gaia's champion laid awake all night, listening to the endless siren's calls.

* * *

 _3rd January, 1997_

 _Greenhouse n°7, outskirts of Gotham City, Industrial district_

Sinking her bare feet into the fresh soil, Aster Isley let out a contented sigh. She wriggled her small toes for a while, feeling the earth slipping between them like the tickle of a gentle hand.

Turning her face toward the sky, though, she frowned. Despite the distance between them and the monstrous city of Gotham, the girl could smell the ambient pollution from here. Worse, she could _feel_ it. It made her feel oily like she hadn't washed her hair for a week despite her daily bath, and dirty, sweaty, like when she played outside all afternoon, chasing after grumpy insects and running away from playful lianas.

Yes, after over three long years of living here, Aster Isley knew for a fact that she hated Gotham City with all her heart. In fact, it was right there in her top three, alongside Batman and grape juice; not necessarily in that order. There was just something so _wrong_ with each of these things, and she knew, without a doubt, that the only way to get rid of them, was to _destroy_ them. That was what her mother said, and her mother was always right.

Rubbing her nose with her sleeve, Aster's green eyes danced around their small patch of paradise, looking a fiery mane. It took her just a second to find her mother crouching above a few self-conscious weed, softly cooing at them in that sweet voice she only ever used for her or the other organisms.

Observing the way the weeds responded to the warm encouragements, she wondered, not for the first time, whether she ought to be jealous of them, like the kids were of their own siblings in those cartoons she liked, but she just could not manage to. It felt as silly as being envious of her hands when her mother held them, or her cheeks, when she kissed them. She was a part of them, like they were a part of her and her mother, as simple as that, and she was as happy as any could be with such a family.

But sometimes, Aster had to admit it could get lonely, like when her mom went on her missions, and all the girl could do was watch her on the TV. She could be away for a week or two at a time and though she always, always came back, her absence felt like a skinned knee, throbbing, itching; it hurt to move, and the pain only lessened when her mother was there to kiss it away. That was one of the inconveniences of being left alone with plants for days on end: as wonderful as they were, they were rarely comforting.

Tearing her gaze away from her mother and the slowly growing weeds, the strange little bud wiggled her toes one last time before making her way to a nearby bush of red roses. She wasn't allowed to go further away, one of the few rules imposed by her mother; along not talking to strange men dressed like overgrown bats or clowns, _ever_. But today, she was feeling restless, or as restless as the often sleepy girl could be, in any case. And so, with one last look toward her mom, the curious girl walked past the bush.

It only took her a few minutes to regret her choice, though, as the smell of chemicals seemed to grow stronger with each cautious step. It wasn't even that interesting to see, really, just some yellow grass and a few puddles filled with a strange liquid that burned her nostrils and filled her green eyes with tears after only a whiff of the stuff. Aster felt sick to her stomach soon after discovering the previously unknown landscape. She wished it had stayed that way.

How much more could these filthy humans twist and torture Gaia? Couldn't they see how wrong this was? How they scorched her further with each of her children's death? All those innocent souls, killed and burnt, only to be replaced by those ugly grey towers, no colors in sight.

And when the sun couldn't stand the sight and hid away behind thick clouds for the day, her vibrant mother would look so sad, so tired, almost… _scared_ . On those days, she felt strangely sick, her stomach twisting with the unfairness of it all, hatred filling her young heart.

Those monsters spent so much time looking up to the sky, they didn't see they were standing on a pile of ash. Or perhaps they simply didn't care. She honestly didn't know which was worst.

The bitter little girl was ready to turn around and stomp back to her mother's side, when she caught a glimpse of something almost colorful, so out-of-place among the dry weeds. Her anger subsiding somewhat, Aster curiously stepped closer, and blinked. It was a woman. Well, she thought she was a woman, though the strange individual looked nothing like any other she had ever seen. With her dirty bubble gum hair and torn clothing, she had more in common with a hobo than with the girl's mom. She seemed to be in need of a good wash, if only to get rid of the terrible smell and those wierd purple-black pattern across her pale skin. Was it the dirt? No, dirt didn't look like that, she would know, she spent her days playing in it. In fact, it looked more like her knees after a harsh fall on the ground. Judging by the amount of bruises, she must have been very clumsy too, especially to fall so many times on her face.

Aster's examination was abruptly interrupted when her mother's hand landed on her shoulder. Rising her head so fast she heard her neck crack, she looked up to see her mother standing there, sunlight dancing amidst her furious red curls, blank eyes trained on the washed-out stranger.

"Well then, dear, what do we have here?"

* * *

"Mama, I think the lady's hurt."

It took Poison Ivy a few seconds to answer her girl, narrowed eyes dancing between each dark bruises and a slowly rising chest before turning to her daughter, blocking the worrisome sight.

"That she is." After a careful pause, she added, "Should we help her, I wonder?"

Neither her voice, nor her facial expression betrayed her thoughts and Aster tilted her head in contemplation, wild hair swaying along.

"She's a human."

Her mother simply hummed in response, waiting, cautious eyes on her precious girl.

"And she doesn't smell very good."

Ivy's lips twitched but did not form words. The girl stared at the only visible part of the stranger laying on the ground, brows furrowed. Seconds later, she raised her green eyes, meeting her mother's.

"Do they all smell like that?"

"Their stench isn't usually this strong, no. This one's quite filthy. More so than the rest."

"Oh." A pause. "Then we should give her a bath."

"Oh?" Aster only gave a curt nod. "And why is that?"

Her daughter's gaze returned to the ground, fixed on filthy bubble gum strands.

"'She has nice hair."

After a few more moments of staring, she turned on her heels with a shrug, walking back to the deserted greenhouse and leaving her bemused mother and their unconscious guest to follow.

* * *

Under her mother's watch, Aster carefully ran the shower head over the stranger's hair, grime and suds disappearing down the drain, the sharp chemical smell fading along. The girl was delighted to discover that, once clean and unbound, strands of blue and pink blended beautifully. It reminded her of the early sunrises she often witnessed, waiting for her mom to come home.

But once the filth had been washed away, nothing could distract the curious stare aimed at the split lip and ugly bruises. With those strange additions, the human's face looked like a spoiled fruit, all yellows, purples and greens. Aster really liked her hair better. She wondered how the stranger would look then, without all those bruises. In fact, the more she stared at the battered face, the more she wanted to find out.

Reaching a small hand to touch the offending marks, her gesture was stopped by her mother's gentle hold on her wrist. Giving it a soft squeeze, she didn't let go of it as she spoke for the first time in the last twenty minutes.

"Careful, little one. We wouldn't want to injure our guest further now, would we?"

Staring at her mother, pink lips parted, Aster blinked a few times, having previously been absorbed by her inspection. With a nod, she stepped closer to her mother, almost hiding behind her legs, as if her simple presence could worsen the colourful human's wounds.

With a loving smile, the smitten red-haired carded her long fingers through her daughter's silky locks.

"Why don't you go fetch some towels, hmm? You remember where they are, yes?"

With one last lingering look, she gave a curt nod before darting out of the bathroom, a determined frown creasing her young face.

Shaking her head full of hair, Poison Ivy's smile slowly slid away as she considered their new pet project. Under the artificial lighting, the ugly bruises offered a disturbing contrast against her pasty skin. The pungent smell of bleach and the dreadful injuries covering her shivering body led the suddenly exhausted criminal to make some upsetting conclusions.

Upon hearing the sound of bare feet padding swiftly back to the bathroom, she tugged on the shower curtain, leaving only the stranger's hair to hang out of the bathtub for her daughter to see. Holding an impressive tower of fluffy towels before her, Aster blindly walked into the now crowded room, before dropping her colourful package to the ground. She looked up at her mother, expectant, hands fidgeting at her sides, eager to help. Ivy took the time to smile gently at her precious daughter, eyes glinting with motherly pride.

"Well done, little one. Now, I will have to clean our guest's wounds to avoid any infections. Would you be a dear and bring me the first aid kit? It's right under the sink. Thank you, darling."

Opening the small red case, she turned to Aster, eyes serious.

"Now, darling, I'm going to ask you to go to your room and try to sleep. No," She shook her head as her girl opened her mouth, ready to protest. "it's not a question. This I not something I want you to see. You did very well today, little one, and you were of great help, but there's not much else you can do now. And I know you must be tired, dear, this well past your bedtime." Seeing her daughter petulant scowl, she sighed and gave her a small smile. "For me? Please? That way you can rest for the both us."

At that, Aster gave a hesitant nod, chewing on her lip. After a small moment of indecision and a quick glance to the still unconscious stranger lying in their bathtub, she darted toward her mother, sinking into her embrace. With a kiss to the forehead, and a light squeeze, Ivy leaned back.

"Thank you, darling. Now, brush your teeth and go to bed; I'll come as soon as I'm done."

And her night was filled with cotton swaps, careful stitching, and potent injections. After all, it would not do for all her daughter's effort to go to waste, just because those puny humans' low tolerance to poisonous air.

* * *

She wanted to die. At this point, living was not worth it. Few things were now. As it was, she could not even open her eyes, her body as exhausted as her mind. The feel of the mattress beneath her was the only thing grounding her to reality, and she wasn't sure she was grateful about that. She tried to wiggle her toes, just to see if she could, but each of her limbs felt like it weighted a ton. Her mouth seemed to be filled to the brim with cotton balls, choking her, stuck in her throat. Eyes burning, she tried to make a sound, but it only resulted in a pathetic little whimper. As soon as it brushed past her lips, she hated it. She didn't want to be pathetic anymore! No more shy, insecure little Dr Harleen Quinzel. Never again! She thought she had succeeded in leaving it all behind when she had first put on the tights and joined Mista J and yet, here she was, stuck in a bed, unable to move and with no idea of her current location, not even three months in her new life.

She was pathetic, and Mista J knew it, had seen it through all the tick layers of make-up. That's why he had thrown her away, and she couldn't even blame him.

But... She was in a bed, wasn't she? Did that mean that he had came back for her after all, despite everything he'd said? She cringed at how she must look to him then, weak and helpless, completely _useless_.

Her gloom thoughts were interrupted by a finger poking her cheek, getting dangerously close to her eye with each movement.

"Wake up." A few seconds, then more poking. "Mama said you weren't dead. That means you can wake up now."

Try as she might though, her eyes wouldn't open. Not that she necessarily wanted them to, because the voice belonged to a child, and she knew, without a doubt, that Mista J would never, ever let a child in his den. Or at least, not without tying them up first.

So he hadn't came back for her after all. Well, that was probably for the best, right? That way, she wouldn't make an even bigger fool of herself. The poking resumed.

"Wake. Up."

The persistent nudging was interrupted, smooth knuckles brushing gently against her skin, calmly removing the impatient finger.

"That's enough now, dear."

The newcomer's voice was soothing, richer and deeper; clearly a woman's voice.

"But, mama..."

"Our guest needs her rest." A pause, followed by a warm chuckle. "Patience, little one, I'm sure it won't take much longer."

Someone let out a loud sigh, and after some shuffling around, the silence returned.

A few moments later, more unsure of her fate than ever but oh so exhausted, Harley Quinn fell back asleep.

* * *

Leaving Morpheus' arms once again, she let her senses run free. A heavy quilt resting on her body, soft sheets brushing against her stiff limbs, a low humming reaching her ears and a light, floral smell tickling her nose. Breathing as deeply as she dared, she took the time to simply enjoy the peacefulness of the moment before she had to face the inevitable storm. Obviously, whoever had helped her hadn't done so for free, and with how lucky she had been recently, the price would be quite hefty, she was sure.

The soft humming stopped and, with great reluctance, she finally opened her eyes for the first time in what felt like years.

Darkness greeted her, and for that, she was grateful. Everything had seemed so bright and loud these past few weeks, the calm seemed like a fitting end to all of this. Mista J, her light and inspiration, had left her with a bang and bruises, alone and incomplete, a work in progress, forever imperfect. He had cut her strings without a thought, and now, her limbs felt too heavy to move without help. God, but she really was useless. Just like he'd said, right before her dip in the acid.

She wished she could sleep forever, but as old as she felt, she had rested enough. That didn't mean that she had to get up anytime soon, though, and she was quite determined to inspect every inch of the ceiling at least twice over before moving.

It was only a few moments later, however, that she heard someone shuffling around, and she remembered the humming. She wasn't alone.

Friend or foe, it didn't matter. In both case, she could hardly move.

Holding her breath, she waited.

Problem was, her savior seemed perfectly content to wait with her. Having never been good with silence, it didn't take long for her to squirm impatiently. Finally, after a good twenty seconds, she surrendered.

"Um... Hey there..."

Her throat was killing her, and she almost flinched at how rough her voice came out.

"Hello."

She recognized the voice from earlier, lower and quieter as it was. She got the distinct impression the other woman was amused. How pathetic did she look, she wondered?

"Where-" Her voice cracked, and Harley blushed at the strange, warbled noise. She licked her dry lips and tried again. "Where am I?"

Again, the low humming filled the room.

"Well, you're still in Gotham, if that was your question."

"Where in Gotham?"

"In my bed."

Even though she couldn't turn her throbbing head toward the her mysterious rescuer and see her face, she knew she wouldn't get much more on this subject. She sighed.

"And... who're ya? Jus' so I know whose bed I'm in?"

"My name... is Poison Ivy."

Silence reigned.

"O-oh..."

"I see my reputation precedes me."

Dear Lord, but Harley could have choked on the smugness! Thanks to the many front pages featuring the infamous eco-terrorist, she didn't need to see her to picture the trademark smirk, so infuriating it was often considered one of her most dangerous powers.

"Well... yeah."

Not the most eloquent answer, sure, but what else was she supposed to say to the fiery criminal who had saved her? Should she fawn over her, praise her accomplishments? Years of studying criminal minds had taught her to not antagonize them under any circumstance, unless of course you dressed as a giant bat on a regular basis, but the amount of childhood trauma and mental scars required made that option much less tempting than simply becoming one of them.

Her brief stint at the Asylum had made it clear that to them, she was just a fun way to pass time, trying to mess with her head at any given opportunities. She now realized that, even as Harley Quinn, she was no threat to them, not even a blip on their radars. She was ready to bet that, if she were to give Poison Ivy her name, the red-head wouldn't recognize it.

"Thank ya, by the way. For, ya know, saving me and … yeah."

The words left a bitter after-taste in her dry mouth. God, she was so _weak_.

"Hmm. Yes, well, the choice wasn't really mine anyway."

"Ah."

"Yes, you see, for whatever reasons, my daughter decided to help you. So, really, you should be thanking her, not me."

"Oh, a-alright."

Obviously, after all these years and the rather... original place it had happened, the birth of Poison Ivy's daughter was common knowledge, but everyone knew better than to mention the girl in front of her. To hear confirmation from the mother's own mouth... Well, that did _not_ happen everyday.

"You're with that clown, aren't you? The new girl he drags everywhere."

The abrupt change of subject caught her off-guard, and she blinked for a few seconds. So she did know who Harley was. Not in the best way, maybe, but still, that was something.

"I, well, yeah. I mean! I was! But now I... I dunno. I guess... not anymore."

"Hm, well, that's probably for the best, really. I always wondered how anyone could ever willingly spend time with that brute of a man. You're better off now, believe me. Men like him, they take and take and never give back and you end up empty and lost. They are not worth it, trust me. None of them are."

Oh, but her Puddin' was. Nobody understood that, nobody got the bond between them, the link that had joined their souls from the first time their eyes had crossed and that kept growing with each look, each touch, each word.

She tried to ignore the way everything smelled of flowers and earth instead of sweat and gunpowder, but the grip on her heart only tightened.

The silence stretched, only disturbed by her shuddering breath.

The shuffling resumed, more agitated this time, joined by mumbles and grumbles.

"Shhhh, little one, shhhh."

Since Harley doubted Poison Ivy would use such a soft voice with her, she could only assume that her daughter was with them in the room. Well then. That wasn't stressful at all. Rumour had it that the girl had never left the redhead's hideouts, had never been to the city and so, had never met anyone else other than her mother. If it was true; if what Poison Ivy had told her was true, then...

"Mama."

She recognized that voice too, remembered the poking that had accompanied it. So this was her saviour then, huh? Rescued by a toddler. Could she be any more pathetic?

"Mama, is the human dead yet?"

"No darling, it would appear she has survived. Perhaps she is not as weak as her brethren."

And was it just Harley, or did her fellow criminal sound just a touch intrigued? But no, she couldn't be. Not by her.

"Can I see her mama? I wanna see her hair."

"Well, I guess it's only fair. You did take good care of her, didn't you, dear?"

Was she mocking her? Was she deliberately reminding Harley of her situation? But no, her voice was still so soft, so motherly... Her focus was solely on her daughter, and Harley nothing but an afterthought.

"You helped too though, mama."

"Just barely, darling, nothing important."

The first thing she saw was the fiery mane of Poison Ivy, skin greener in the darkness of the room. Resting against her chest, a head full of dark locks turned to her and twin emerald orbs fixed her. Staring, the girl's wide eyes roved over her hair and, slowly, a small smile spread across her chubby cheeks.

Under the intense stare, Harley stuttered.

"H-hey there. I hear I have to thank ya for savin' me. What's ya name, sweetie?"

As Harley smiled to the girl, unsure, her mother's grip tightened, eyes shining with warning.

With a gulp, she lowered her gaze back to the kid, cobalt blue meeting silvery green.

"My name... is Aster."

Tilting her head, she turned back to her hair.

"What's _your_ name?"

Though she didn't sound particularly interested, Harley answered her anyway.

"I'm Harley Quinn, but ya can call me Harley."

"Harley... That's weird. Like your hair. I like it. Your hair, I mean. Not your name. Did you paint them? Your hair? They were dirty before, but I cleaned them, and now they're even prettier. Are they usually that dirty? Or did you just forget to take a bath? Bath time is important, you know?"

Harley blinked.

"Well, thanks, kiddo. I, well, I dyed 'em, you know, and, well, usually, I wash 'em everyday if I can, but I was a bit busy, and I couldn't exactly, ah, take a bath, so... But yeah, you're right, bath time is important, and thanks for doin' it for me. I really appreciate it, hun."

The smile grew, adorable dimples appearing, and Harley felt the almost uncontrollable urge to just pinch them. A quick glance at the lioness guarding her cub taught her better though, and she just clenched her weak fists under the soft cover. She blinked again.

"Oh, thanks a bunch for the bed by the way, that was real nice of ya!"

With a slow nod, Poison Ivy accepted her thanks, not commenting on the slight hysteria in Harley's voice.

The stares continued until a low growl snapped them out of it.

"Ah, yes. You were unconscious for two days, you must be quite hungry now."

Strangely enough, she wasn't. Which was worrying because Harley was _always_ hungry. Now though, she felt mostly tired and anxious about what _this_ all meant for her. Hopefully something quick and painless.

With some difficulty she shrugged and shook her head.

"Not all that much, to be honest."

"Still, you cannot heal on an empty stomach." Then, with a sardonic smirk, she added, "Trust me, dear, I'm a doctor."

With that, the eco-terrorist tried to turn on her heels, but was forced to stop. In her arms, Aster wiggled like a fish out of water until finally, her mother set her on the ground.

"I'll stay with her!"

The worry quickly filling Poison Ivy's eyes as her brows furrowed was so alien, Harley could only stare in awe. She seemed so soft like that, the ice melting away to reveal a warm sunshine under which plants grew and flowers bloomed.

"I'm not sure that's for the best, darling, she needs calm to rest, and-"

"But mama, I can stay calm!"

"Well, yes, I know but-"

"You said that when she woke up, I could talk to her. You _promised_."

At those words, her mother closed her eyes for a moment before turning to Harley, gaze weary and cautious, yes, but also filled with danger. It was less of a warning, more of a promise, one as old as humanity itself. _Harm her and you'll die_.

Giving her her most sheepish smile, she tried to reassure the fierce lioness before her. It didn't work.

Something thin and strong took hold of her wrists and if she'd had any strength left, she would have tried to struggle. As it was, she could only gasp.

"What the hell?!"

Giving her a smile that didn't even triy to reach ice cold eyes, she didn't need to voice her message.

"I can't even move my arms and legs! Hell I can't even feel them!"

"That's because you're tired. You just need to sleep."

The answer was a bit breathless as Aster tried to climb up the bed. A second later, a liana patiently helped her along. With an distracted 'thanks', the girl finally settled next to Harley, and without warning, started to gently pat her hair.

Seemingly satisfied with Harley's incapacity to move, Poison Ivy slowly walked out the room.

"I'll be back soon." She promised, leaving the door open and allowing the light to fight against some of the darkness.

"She always says that." Aster sighed, pink lips pouting and a small fist pressed against her cheek.

And so, for the first time since her transformation, tied up in a bed with no idea of where she was, an infamous eco-terrorist preparing dinner for her in the kitchen and said criminal's daughter playing with her hair, Harley Quinn mourned her old, dull life.

* * *

 **AN: Heyyyy...**

 **So, again, sorry for the _very_ late chapter, but well, life got in the way and I wasn't sure how to introduce Harley, so... **

**Speaking of whom, she will be back to her crazy, happy self in the next chapters, I just wanted to show the effect of the Joker leaving her. In this story, he basically pushed her in the acid, and just left her to die, but she was spit out and was found by Aster soon after. I kinda want to establish that Ivy will treat her better too...**

 **Please, do share your thoughts about Aster. Obviously she will evolve, but for now, I'd love to know your thoughts.**

 **The actual story, with Aster going to Hogwarts, should start in two or three chapters, right now it's more about her relationships in Gotham, with the batfamily, the other vilains, etc...**

 **Thanks again for all your support, don't hesitate if you have any question,**

 **Have a nice day/night,**

 **Mistake Experience.**


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